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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439204">right back where we started from</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerbughead/pseuds/stonerbughead'>stonerbughead</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(in the first few chapters there’s a Veggie/Varchie love triangle), Alternate Universe - The O.C. Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bugvarchie, California here we come, Class Differences, Core Four POV, F/M, Friendship, Jarchie Role Reversal, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Smut, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Underage Drinking, Varchie Medium Burn, Varchie!Centric, brief gun violence, bughead friendly, bughead slow burn, emotional cheating, it wouldn’t be a riverdale/the o.c. AU without archie/ryan punching a couple people, life angst, parties on parties on parties, physical violence, that’s right it’s Newport Beach circa 2003, the Jones family adopts Archie Andrews, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: bad experiences with the foster system, varchie friendly, we’re pulling from parts of riverdale canon and the o.c. canon and throwing others away as needed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:14:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439204</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerbughead/pseuds/stonerbughead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Face flushing, Archie focuses on lighting up, not wanting to betray the fact that the raven-haired girl standing six feet to his right is quite possibly the most breathtakingly gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She must notice him at the same moment. “Who are you?” Her voice is curious, almost inviting. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Archie smiles, so thrown off that what comes out of his mouth next is: “Whoever you want me to be.”</em>
</p><p>When public defender FP Jones takes in one of his clients for the weekend, it sets off a series of events that will forever change the lives of Archie Andrews, Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones, and Betty Cooper.</p><p>or: the bugvarchie <em>the O.C</em>. AU of my dreams</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Archie Andrews &amp; Betty Cooper &amp; Jughead Jones &amp; Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper &amp; Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, EXTREMELY brief Betty Cooper/Trev Brown, Jughead Jones &amp; Archie Andrews, Reggie Mantle/Josie McCoy, Veronica Lodge/Reggie Mantle, past Archie Andrews/Valerie Brown, past Betty Cooper/Adam Chisholm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. welcome to the o.c., bitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to another absurdly long note before the beginning of a new stonerbughead fic! And welcome to The O.C. AU of my dreams, as this was one of the teen dramas of my youth, a show that actually did teen friendships (and an iconic core four) well. </p><p>So off the bat: I realize that i am now Old somehow and that some of my readers may not have watched The O.C. (2003-2007)</p><p>While i highly recommend this iconic relic of the early aughts, I’ll give you a little recap of the show’s premise: Ryan Atwood gets caught trying to steal a car with his brother Trey, who completely forced him to do it, btw. Trey goes to jail and Ryan to juvie. In juvie, public defender Sandy Cohen is assigned to his case; he gets him out of juvie, but when he returns home, Ryan’s alcoholic mother kicks him out. Desperate, Ryan calls Sandy, who lets Ryan come stay with him in the wealthy neighborhood of Newport Beach, where he lives with his real estate developer wife Kirsten Cohen, and their nerdy, emo-loving son Seth Cohen. Through a series of events that I will riff on, the Cohens end up adopting Ryan, who forms a romance with the Cohens’ next-door neighbor Marissa Cooper (despite having a boyfriend when Ryan comes to town, Luke Ward.) Meanwhile, Seth Cohen has had a crush on Marissa’s best friend Summer Roberts since they were kids, but she’s never noticed him...until Ryan comes to town and brings the Core Four (Ryan, Seth, Marissa, and Summer) together. Oh, and it had the best fucking early 2000s soundtrack ever and cool bands came on all the time, a la One Tree Hill.</p><p>If this isn’t already obvious, in this AU Ryan and Marissa are Archie and Veronica, and Seth and Summer are Jughead and Betty. It makes sense to me for a lot of reasons having to do with the character beats of each one, and especially the relationships themselves, all of which are near and dear to my heart. I’m especially having fun writing Jughead and Archie role-reversed as far as class goes—it’s really fun, and I think so much of the material is already there for Archie given how much he’s been involved with various crime-adjacent schemes on Riverdale, whether intentionally or unintentionally. And this gives me an excuse to write the Beronica, Jarchie, and core four friendships we don’t get nearly enough of on Riverdale!</p><p>FYI: this first chapter has more direct dialogue from the pilot than most of the others, which will mainly riff off O.C. plot points and “parties.” Oh, that’s a thing—The O.C. is notorious for having parties every episode, and being very aware of itself. Again, these two universes were *begging* to be fused together! I hope those of you who do know and love The O.C. catch the details, and above all, ENJOY.</p><p>all the love,<br/>Maria</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>recommended listening: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/5m5Blw275J9Q0xrH8jOexW">music from the o.c. mix 1</a><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Pedal to the floor</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thinking of the roar</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gotta get us to the show</em>
</p><p>
  <em>California here we come</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Right back where we started from</em>
</p><p>
  <em>California, California….here we come</em>
</p><p>-phantom planet, #iconic</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>One day soon, Archie Andrews won’t know how to answer a very simple question.</p><p>It’ll reverberate through his head again and again as he lays on his back—cushioned by the softest sheets he’s ever experienced—in ‘the pool house,’ a concept he previously didn’t know existed:</p><p>
  <em>How did I get here?</em>
</p><p>But now, it’s a typical mid-August night in Chino and Archie is following his Uncle Frank warily through the darkened, nearly-deserted streets of the commercial district. </p><p>Most of his friends are standing around in fenced-in backyards or draped in plastic chairs on front porches, downing beers and shooting the shit. They’re probably wondering where he is. </p><p>“Where are we going?” Archie finally asks. He’s getting antsy, picturing Fangs and Toni, probably asking around for him by this point.</p><p>Frank laughs dryly, finally stopping next to a sports car parked outside one of the mechanic shops. </p><p>“I’m your uncle, Arch,” Frank replies, in lieu of answering the question directly. “If I don’t teach you this, who will?”</p><p>“Teach me what?” Archie asks weakly, though a pinching feeling in his gut seems to tell him the answer. </p><p>Frank pulls a metal bar from his backpack, an excited glint in his eye that Archie recognizes as belonging to the most reckless part of his uncle. It’s a recklessness Archie knows he inherited too, though raised for the first ten years of his life by Fred Andrews, he’s slightly better at keeping it under control than Frank. </p><p>(Frank has never been one for the concept of control.)</p><p>Before Archie can even consider it—<em>do I want to jack a car?</em>—Frank makes quick work of whatever locking mechanism was supposed to keep people like them out. The sports car, relatively sleek by Chino standards, lets out a warning sound, the kind that says <em>intruder intruder intruder. </em></p><p>Archie’s palms are clammy as he watches Frank with the metal bar, as he successfully jimmies the lock open and demands that Archie jump in the passenger seat. </p><p>Archie hates choices. </p><p>He stands there for maybe a second too long, thinking about how disappointed his late father would be if he saw his son contemplating grand theft auto. </p><p>And then the sirens start blaring, blue and red lights slashing through the evening air like fireworks on the Fourth of July. </p><p>Archie can’t remember if he tries to run, if he freezes in place, if his life flashes before his eyes. </p><p>He knows he got into the car at some point, that Frank attempts a meager two blocks of reckless speeding until they crash into a row of trash cans. He knows this, but he doesn’t remember it.</p><p>He only remembers the cold metal of handcuffs, angry pleas from a belligerent Frank as their heads are shoved into a squad car. </p><p>Archie can’t remember if he uttered a single word. But that moment changes his life more than he could’ve ever imagined. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>It all happens so fast. </p><p>One minute he’s looking over his shoulder, keeping watch for Frank, and the next he’s sitting at a metal table across from FP Jones, rubbing the rashes forming on his wrists from the cuffs. </p><p>“How you doing, kid?” FP asks, having gotten introductions out of the way.</p><p>(“I’m your-”</p><p>“-Lawyer. I know.”)</p><p>Archie raises his eyebrows, can’t help but scowl at a question like that at a time like this. “Well, I gotta tell ya, it’s not my <em>favorite</em> day of Summer ‘03, Mr. Jones,” he says sarcastically, folding his arms and already chalking this up to yet another disappointment the state of California has in store for him.</p><p>(When your parents die in a car crash when you’re ten, and they can’t find your uncle and his trainwreck wife for four full months, you end up in foster care. And foster care for a ten-year-old boy who knows how to fight, to defend himself? Archie still shudders at the memory.)</p><p>“Fair enough,” FP says, and Archie lifts his eyes. “Look, I’ll give it to you straight.” His gaze returns to the manila folder, the one undoubtedly containing Archie’s future. “They found a gun and some coke on your...uncle?”</p><p>Archie nods. It’s not the first time Frank has been mistaken for his brother, given Frank’s youthful face and general inability to grow up. <em>Some guardian</em>, Archie thinks bitterly. </p><p>“Ah, and it appears he has priors…”</p><p>“He’s going back to prison, isn’t he?” Archie says, before FP can even get to the point. </p><p>FP lifts his gaze from the file and fixes it on Archie. It’s surprisingly kind. “Life’s kicked you around a lot, huh Archie?”</p><p>Archie scowls, taking in FP’s tailored suit and shiny cufflinks. “Like you’d know.”</p><p>FP sighs, closing the folder and folding his hands on the table. “I wish I could say I didn’t.” </p><p>“What about me?” Archie asks. “Let’s not draw this out. Where am I going?”</p><p>FP frowns. “Your grades aren’t great,” he says. Archie shrugs. “You’ve been suspended a couple times for fighting?”</p><p>Archie smirks a little, thinking of the time he decked an incredibly smug Ben Button for daring to harass Toni on the way to class. </p><p>FP clicks his tongue as he opens the folder again, flipping through pages of legal paper. “Now, <em>this </em>is promising. 98th percentile on your SATs? 98% and you start going to class...have you thought about college?” </p><p>Archie laughs. “No,” he says, choosing to save FP the commentary this time. </p><p>“Okay, look,” FP says, again closing the folder dramatically. It seems to be this lawyer’s thing. “I can plead this down to a misdemeanor, but I just want to make sure you know, stealing a car like your uncle did, it’s not gonna get you far. You have to get over the fact that life dealt you a wrong hand. I would know, we’re cut from the same cloth. I grew up far away from here, on the Southside of Riverdale. Dad was a drunk, mom never around. Left home at sixteen with barely anything but the clothes on my back. I get it.”</p><p>Archie remains impassive. This is surely another one of those rare success stories they trot out on Career Day in the hopes of inspiring the poor kids into thinking that if they just work hard enough they, too, will one day escape the cycle of poverty and violence. </p><p>“Smart kid like you,” FP continues. “You <em>gotta</em> have a plan. Some kind of a dream?”</p><p>Archie realizes FP is staring at him expectantly, and he snorts. “Where I’m from, having a dream doesn’t make you smart. Knowing it won’t come true? That does.”</p><p>FP, surprisingly, laughs. “Okay, Archie,” he says. “Let’s get you out of here first.”</p><p>And, to Archie’s continued surprise, FP does. </p><p>Two hours later, Archie stands outside the juvenile detention center with FP, drenched in California sunshine while he waits for Frank’s wife Brittany to pick him up. </p><p>“You don’t have to wait, you know,” he tells FP, kicking a nearby pebble with his shoe. </p><p>“I know,” FP says. “But I want to.”</p><p>When Brittany finally pulls up in the clunker they’ve been driving around for as long as he can remember, Archie turns his burning face away from FP, providing a clear view of a very livid stepmom instead. (If you could even call her that.) “Get in the car, Archie,” she says firmly, eyeing FP warily.</p><p>FP places a hand on Archie’s arm. “Take my card,” he says, slipping the thick cardstock into Archie’s hand. “Just in case you need it.”</p><p>Archie nods, swallowing nervously. “Thank you, Mr. Jones,” he says, and he means it. Somehow, he won’t be sleeping in juvie tonight. He climbs into the passenger seat, eyes averted from Brittany, though he can feel her glare hot on his face. </p><p>Archie glances once more out the window as they drive away, and sees that FP is watching them leave.</p><p>Brittany and Archie don’t say a word to each other the entire ride home. Archie follows her aggressive footsteps into the rundown house, the latest in a long series of places he’s lived with Uncle Frank. There’s a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting squarely on the counter beside a sticky glass, melting ice cubes puddled at the bottom. Archie braces himself immediately, and sure enough, Brittany flies off the handle nearly the second he shuts the front door behind him. </p><p>“I’ve had just about enough of this shit!” she yells. “First the fights in school, now you wind up in juvie? And Frank’s gone and gotten himself locked up again too. What, am I expected to take care of you on my own?” While screaming, Brittany manages to refill her whiskey glass. Archie stares at his feet, trying to avoid direct eye contact. Over the years he’s lived with Frank and Brittany, he’s learned to ride out Brittany’s drunk rages, staying quiet, trying everything in his power to let them pass without further rocking the boat. </p><p>Brittany pauses to take a huge gulp, nearly emptying her glass again. The look in her eyes when she places the glass down on the counter is so venomous, Archie can’t help but stare. “I need you <em>out</em>,” Brittany says, and Archie knows from the way she’s staring at him that she means it. She’s never much liked Archie, even put up a huge fight years ago, when Frank agreed to take custody. He remembers her wildly waving arms, the way she pointed at him like he was scum. </p><p>He was ten years old.</p><p>Seventeen-year-old Archie faces the same demon. She snarls: “<em>Tonight</em>.” </p><p>Archie gulps. “Tonight? Where am I supposed to go?”</p><p>Brittany shrugs. “You’re not sleeping here tonight,” she says, pouring herself another glass and strutting away toward the couch, as if this matter is settled.</p><p>Archie’s mind swirls with memories of glasses flying and Frank and Britttany screaming. He has no desire to put up a fight. Not to stay<em> here.</em></p><p>And so he files past Brittany into his meager bedroom and just starts packing. His backpack quickly fills up, but it’s not like he has much to his name anyway. His mind is racing, mentally cataloguing the whereabouts of all his friends, scouring every nook of his room for loose change. </p><p>By the time he emerges with his things, Brittany is passed out on the couch. She’s more pleasant this way. Archie’s bike is locked around back, the result of months’ worth of saving all his wages from the local pizza joint. </p><p>He jumps on it immediately, adrenaline pumping through him as he pedals toward the nearest strip mall. It doesn’t hit him until he’s standing in front of the payphone how incredibly tired he is.</p><p>“Hey, Toni, can I crash?” </p><p>“Oh, Arch, I’m so glad to hear you’re out of juvie. But…”</p><p>No room at the inn. </p><p>Fangs can’t take him in either. </p><p>As he calls friend after friend, collecting rejections like they’re Pokemon cards, Archie tries to catch his breath. He pulls another quarter from his pocket, heart stopping when he realizes how little there is clanging in his pockets now. For a brief, desperate moment, he seriously considers calling Valerie Brown. </p><p>Archie and Valerie have been off-again on-again basically since the sixth grade dance, but <em>no. We’re off right now. </em>Archie knows this latest break-up was for the best, that Valerie needed to explore her feelings for Malachi. He can picture her number in his head, his finger twitches to press those familiar numbers. But he can’t. He can’t ask her to crash. She asked for space and he fully intends on giving her that. </p><p>Gritting his teeth, Archie unfolds the business card from his back pocket and punches in the number. </p><p>FP pulls up to find Archie smoking a cigarette by the curb thirty minutes later. “You could do worse, huh?” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Archie nods, unsure what to say. </p><p>“Get in, kid.”</p><p>After loading his bike into the trunk, Archie climbs in, slumping into the seat immediately, his body practically crying out in relief.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Archie asks as FP pulls away and makes a U-turn. Archie watches curiously as they head in the opposite direction. </p><p>“We’re going to my place,” FP explains. “Just for the weekend, while we figure out what to do.” </p><p>But as they continue in careful silence—Archie’s grateful that FP isn’t pushy with conversation, given his exhaustion—the houses start to change. Suddenly, Archie can’t tear his eyes from the window, each house they pass newer and shinier and <em>bigger</em>. Honestly, he didn’t know they <em>made</em> houses this big. Even when his parents were alive, they lived in a modest home right on the outskirts of Chino. Archie remembers hearing them talk about trying to get him into the better school district for high school, something they wouldn’t live to get to decide.</p><p>Finally, FP turns off the main road, and Archie’s eyes widen at the palm trees lining the boulevard. “Where are we?” he asks.</p><p>FP laughs cynically. “Why, son, we’re in the one and only Newport Beach.”</p><p>As if on cue, they pass a sign welcoming them, and there it is: the ocean, pristine and glittering and just <em>there</em>. Not a day trip that requires bus money and a full day off from work. </p><p>FP takes another sharp turn and they begin meandering through a residential neighborhood, full of houses that look to Archie like small, modern fortresses. The plants are pristinely kept, arranged in careful lines along the wide boulevards. </p><p>Archie turns his attention away from the window and at his more immediate surroundings, at the cushy leather seats and the cell phone sitting on the dashboard. “This is a<em> nice </em>car,” he observes, the wheels turning in his brain. “I didn’t know your kind of lawyer made a lot of money.”</p><p>FP chuckles. “Very perceptive, Archie. You’re right, we don’t. But my wife does.”</p><p>Archie nods, impressed, as FP puts on his turn signal and approaches a booth, like one of the parking booths his Uncle Frank used to work at. The man waves the car in and one of those metal bars striped like peppermint candy lifts in the air to grant them passage. They drive through the gates, entering what Archie gathers is a...private neighborhood. </p><p>Archie gapes at the houses they pass, each outfitted with some extravagant pool or fountain or other fixture that makes his eyes widen in disbelief. Soon, FP finally pulls into a long driveway. Archie stares at the house, a tan-colored monstrosity that looks to Archie like somewhere they’d live in a teen movie. </p><p>FP doesn’t move at first, seeming to ponder something for a moment as he cuts the engine. “Let me just go inside and talk to my wife real quick, okay? It’ll be better for all of us that way,” he finally says, attempting a more jovial tone. </p><p>Archie shrugs, unbuckling his seatbelt. Who is he to interrupt a conversation between spouses? “Sure.”</p><p>FP nods gratefully before turning and heading up the long walk into his home. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Gladys Jones is furious.</p><p>She paces around their gigantic kitchen, five minutes into a rant. A tantalizing-smelling bag of take-out waits on the counter as she gestures with her wine glass. FP feels his stomach grumble, and prays his wife didn’t hear it. </p><p>“This is not a stray puppy!” she continues. “It was only a matter of time before you started bringing home delinquents.” A break to sip her wine. “You’re endangering our son. Did you even <em>think </em>about Jughead?”</p><p>“I <em>am</em> thinking about Jughead!” FP replies, cautiously moving closer to his wife. “I think it’d be great for him to get to know Archie. He barely has any friends his own age.”</p><p>“What if this is all a scam and he’s casing the house?” Gladys suggests, draining her wine glass clean. </p><p>“This isn’t some criminal mastermind, he’s a kid!” FP protests. “A kid with nowhere to go! It’s just for the weekend. When did you become so cynical?”</p><p>“When did you become so self-righteous?” Gladys counters, turning her back to FP as she loads the glass into the dishwasher. </p><p>“I’ve always been self-righteous,” FP replies, letting his tone soften. “You used to find it charming.” </p><p>Gladys laughs, and FP’s stomach swoops with tentative excitement. Gladys turns around and grabs his face for one of their familiar kisses. “You’re right,” she concludes with a sigh, turning on her heel. </p><p>“Where are you going?” FP asks, but it comes out like a scared plea. He can’t let this kid sleep on the streets.</p><p>“He’s gonna need fresh sheets for the bed in the pool house,” Gladys responds, as if it’s obvious, before disappearing in the direction of the linen closet.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Outside, Archie ambles down the driveway to smoke, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and letting out a deep sigh of something, maybe relief. He’s just prying a cigarette from the carton when he notices a teenage girl standing at the end of the neighboring driveway, her flip phone in hand and arms crossed, as if waiting for a bus. (Do they even <em>have </em>buses here?)</p><p>Face flushing, Archie focuses on lighting up, not wanting to betray the fact that the raven-haired girl standing six feet to his right is quite possibly the most breathtakingly gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. </p><p>She must notice him at the same moment. “Who are you?” Her voice is curious, almost inviting. </p><p>Archie smiles, so thrown off that what comes out of his mouth next is: “Whoever you want me to be.”</p><p>He cringes internally, grateful that the girl snorts appreciatively before walking a little closer. </p><p>“Hey, can I bum a cigarette?”</p><p>Surprised, impressed, and a little turned on, Archie nods, his cig still perched between his teeth. He offers the butt of his own cigarette in lieu of a light, and the girl smiles at him, the kind of coquettish look Valerie used to give him when she wanted something. Maybe all the girls here always want something. After all, look at the houses they live in. </p><p>The mysterious girl blows out a cloud of smoke seamlessly, which Archie mentally catalogues. A small part of him expected the surprised coughs of virginal lungs. The cigarette perched daintily between her fingers, the girl repeats, “So, what <em>are </em>you doing here...seriously?”</p><p>“Seriously?” Archie watches the girl’s eyes dance. She seems intrigued, entranced. He’s never experienced such immediate chemistry with a girl in his life. And yet...he glances at the trendy purse purchased on her shoulder, the string of pearls wreathed around her neck. Will she be shocked, disgusted? </p><p>Too exhausted to make up a lie, Archie decides to attempt honesty, a part of him a little guiltily excited to watch someone so pristine and privileged be confronted with his reality. “I stole a car. Crashed it. Actually, my uncle did. Since he had a gun and drugs on him, he’s in jail. His wife threw me out, she was pissed off and drunk. So Mr. Jones took me in.”</p><p>The girl’s face doesn’t change for a second as she processes the information, Archie taking another nervous drag off his cigarette. </p><p>
But then, the girl laughs, a beautiful, tinkling laugh. He already wants to hear more of it. “You’re their cousin from Boston, right?” </p><p>Archie blanches, unsure how to proceed. “Right…”</p><p>Thankfully, FP Jones interrupts before Archie can figure out how to pretend to be from Massachusetts. The girl drops her cig to the ground the second he rounds the bend, so it’s already stamped under her heels by the time FP greets them. </p><p>“Hi, Veronica!” FP says in his warm, fatherly way. <em>Veronica. </em></p><p>“Mr. Jones!” Veronica’s whole face lights up, her voice shifting. <em>Wow, she’s good with adults too. </em>“I was just meeting your nephew.”</p><p>FP laughs. “My…” He turns to look at Archie, who shrugs, sure his face must look as shell-shocked as he feels. “...right, yes, we’re very excited to have Archie here staying with us for the weekend.”</p><p>Veronica nods, her eyes landing again on Archie and smirking.</p><p>“So, we’re very excited about the fashion show tomorrow night, Veronica,” FP says. </p><p>Archie’s eyes crinkle with something between amusement and disgust. <em>A</em> fashion show<em>? How rich </em>are<em> these people?</em></p><p>“Thanks, Mr. Jones. We’re nearly sold out, I think it’s gonna be a really great event. Hopefully we’ll raise lots of money for the battered women’s shelter.” She turns toward Archie. “You should definitely come,” she says, her big eyes completely focused on him.</p><p>Before Archie can answer, a yellow hummer pulls into the cul-de-sac, hard rap blaring from the stereo. A handsome-looking dude with dark hair grins at Veronica from the driver’s seat and Veronica smiles in recognition. </p><p><em>Ah. </em>He’s <em>the bus she was waiting for. Of course a girl like that has a boyfriend already.</em></p><p>“Well, gotta go, Mr. Jones and….” she looks at him expectantly.</p><p>“Archie,” he repeats, still dazed.</p><p>“Archie,” Veronica agrees, smiling. “See you guys tomorrow night I hope!” </p><p>And with that, she turns away and into one of those hurried half-jogs only glamorous people seem capable of pulling off. </p><p>Archie watches as the boy in the front seat plants a greeting kiss on Veronica’s lips, as she seems to lean it to make it deeper. </p><p>Reggie pulls back, waving at Archie and FP—Archie swears there’s gloating in his eyes as they linger over Archie’s face—and then they drive away. </p><p>Still thoroughly swept away by Veronica Lodge, Archie doesn’t even notice FP skillfully snatch the cig from his hand. </p><p>“No smoking in this house,” FP says as he leads him up the driveway.</p><p>“Noted,” Archie says with a cough. </p><p>“So, we’re gonna have you sleep in the pool house,” FP says, right around the time that a giant infinity pool swims into Archie’s view. “Is that okay?”</p><p>Archie snorts. “Uh...yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”</p><p>Indeed, it’s a house beside the pool, like a miniature of the one standing tall behind it. FP holds open the glass door. “May I introduce you to my wife, Gladys?” he says.</p><p>A dark-haired woman with kind eyes looks up from where she’s just finishing making up the largest bed Archie has ever seen. <em>And this isn’t even their main house?</em></p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Archie says as she smiles in recognition and hurries around the bed to greet him.</p><p>“Nice to meet you too, Archie. So, I got you some fresh towels in the bathroom and new sheets on the bed,” she says. “There’s water and soda in the mini fridge over in the corner if you need it, and please feel free to just come into the main house in the morning when you wake up. There’s always breakfast.” She says it so quickly that Archie wonders if she’d been rehearsing it while making hospital corners on his bed.</p><p>“Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Jones. I can’t thank you enough.”</p><p>“Please, call us FP and Gladys,” FP says, throwing an arm around Gladys. </p><p>“Do you need anything else?” Gladys asks and Archie shakes his head, looking around his digs for the weekend in awe. </p><p>“I’m all good, m’am,” he replies with a dazed smile.</p><p>“Good,” FP says, opening the door. “You must be exhausted. We’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>“Good night,” Archie says, watching as the door clicks shut behind the couple.</p><p>Archie drops his backpack to the floor before collapsing on the bed. He’s out within minutes.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica Lodge doesn’t really...get flustered. Even when she feels the familiar wave of panic set in, that feeling she’s lost control, she’s always managed to remain outwardly composed. In Newport Beach, parents drill it into their kids early: outward appearances mean everything. They teach their kids to push their emotions down, to hold it in at nearly all times. Letting out feelings is for your overpriced therapist. </p><p>In the familiar din of her boyfriend’s hummer, Veronica threads her fingers through Reggie’s silky hair. Heart beating fast, she kisses him as if trying to convince herself that Reggie is the reason she feels flustered and not...the mysterious boy next door.</p><p>Reggie pulls back from the kiss with his signature smirk. “Hello to you too,” he jokes before returning his attention to the road.</p><p>As he puts the car into drive, Veronica can’t help but turn around to watch the faraway figures of FP and Archie walk up the Jones’ driveway. </p><p>“You ready for this?” Reggie interrupts, though he has no idea he’s interrupting. </p><p>Veronica turns back toward Reggie, feels her face warm. “Sorry,” she says. “Distracted. Yes, I am so ready.”</p><p>They’re on their way, of course, to the overpriced dinner Reggie takes her out to at least once a month, at one of a rotating list of their favorite Zagat-rated restaurants. They’ll order an appetizer to share, discuss the water polo team’s season prospects and the ticket sales for the annual charity fashion show. When the entrees come, they’ll steal exactly one bite off each other’s plates, and when the server brings the dessert menu, Veronica will decline, making an off-handed remark about “watching her weight” that will make her feel like her mother. </p><p>Veronica has been dating Reggie since...sometimes it feels like she’s been dating him since they were born. She’d never considered it would be any other way.</p><p>Until she met Archie Andrews.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Archie awakes in a complete daze, the streaks of sunshine pouring in the windows having served as an involuntary wake-up call. He rubs his eyes and looks around blearily, at first almost forgetting where he is. </p><p>He stands up and stares through the sliding glass door at the large infinity pool outside his window, grounding himself in this impossible-seeming reality he’s woken up in. </p><p>“Where am I?” he whispers to himself as he pees. He frowns at his disheveled appearance in the mirror, then glances back at the nicest shower he’s ever seen, tiled and full of Kiehl’s products</p><p>With time to think as the warm water cascades down onto him—Archie didn’t know they made shower heads this luxurious—he can’t help that the girl named Veronica keeps popping back into his head. Will he get to see her again? He finds that he wants nothing more. </p><p>When the water finally stops and Archie wraps an unbelievably soft towel around his torso, he has the worst thought of all: <em>she’d never be interested in a guy like me. </em></p><p>Archie feels a bit more like a human after the hot shower, but he doesn’t feel any less out of place as he finally lets the sliding glass door open and wanders across the stoned pathway toward where he <em>thinks</em> the entrance to the main house is. </p><p>Inside, he immediately stumbles upon a teenage boy, still clad in his pajamas as he sits on the floor in the living room playing a video game on the large flatscreen. </p><p>The boy turns the second Archie slides the glass door open.</p><p>“Hey,” Archie croaks out, unable to form sentences this early.</p><p>“Hey,” the boy responds, almost like he was expecting Archie. “Do you want to play?”</p><p>Archie glances toward the screen, paused as the boy stares at him expectantly. “GTA?” he asks.</p><p>The boy nods. “If that’s okay. I know...it’s kind of ironic?” he replies. “I’m Jughead, by the way.” He offers Archie a controller, and despite the obvious dramatic irony, Archie feels truly safe for the first time since he arrived in Newport Beach, picturing the many hours of Grand Theft Auto he and Toni and Fangs have clocked in Fangs’ ratty basement. Back when he’d assumed that was the closest to stealing cars he’d ever get.</p><p>“You’re on,” Archie replies. “And I’m Archie.”</p><p>Jughead lets out a cynical laugh, and Archie’s eyes almost widen, it’s so reminiscent of his father. “I figured you were my dad’s client and not, you know, some random person my parents hired to befriend me. Though I wouldn’t exactly put it past them.”</p><p>Archie glances at Jughead for the second he can before the round starts—<em>guess this dude doesn’t have a lot of friends</em>—and then his fingers are moving as if on autopilot. </p><p>It’s easy to talk over a video game like this, to get to know someone as your wrists and fingers and eyes concentrate on the blaring lights and sounds of the gameplay. </p><p>“You don’t get a lot of visitors?” Archie guesses.</p><p>“Nah,” Jughead says. “My entire way of being is antithetical to Newport Beach culture,” he explains, and Archie snorts. </p><p>“If that’s true, then what am I?” Archie replies, and this time Jughead laughs. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jughead has never really had a friend before. At least, not one his own age. He doesn’t think the college-age nerds who work at the comic book store and video store count.</p><p>He knows that at seventeen this fact about himself is at best pathetic and at worst tragic, but he’d prefer to drown his teenage angst into emo music, sailing, and the aforementioned comic books than actually try to get along with his classmates at The Harbor School. </p><p>His entire life Jughead felt like he was just...born in the wrong place, perhaps on the wrong coast. He gravitates toward flannels and denim, dark colors and his security blanket—an unseasonable crown beanie that has been the subject of much mocking over the years by Reggie Mantle and his band of merry water polo players. He assumed fitting in just wasn’t in the cards, that he may as well put his head down until college, when he’ll escape to a liberal arts school on the East Coast and finally, finally feel that sense of belonging he sees on the faces of all the people growing up around him. </p><p>Until he meets Archie Andrews.</p><p>Playing Grand Theft Auto with Archie for two whole hours feels...different. Archie lets him rant without judgment, listening as Jughead riffs on how obnoxious he finds his hometown of Newport Beach. In the presence of someone who comes from a much rougher area, Jughead suddenly feels this need for Archie to know he doesn’t exactly...<em>approve</em> of everything that’s going on around here. The big, indulgent houses, the shiny, overpriced jewelry and fancy sports cars and...everything. His dad made sure to drill into him that none of this was fair, not when others had so little. That there are people out there with real problems. (Though his mom would sometimes chime in angrily, ask FP who paid the majority of the bills while Jughead studied his cuticles.) </p><p>Anyway, the very fact that Archie doesn’t seem to judge him too harshly for his relatively privileged upbringing is already generous enough, but it’s the tolerance for Jughead’s sense of humor that makes Jughead scratch his head. He’s not sure anyone his own age has ever just let him...<em>be himself</em> for so long. Archie alternately laughs and asks clarifying questions with some awe and shock. (Not unfamiliar emotions when it comes to the ridiculousness of Newpsie culture.) </p><p>The sound of their laughter and fingers pressing fast and hard on the controller buttons fills the sunny room. </p><p>That’s how FP finds them when he returns from his pilgrimage to the bagel shop a couple towns over—there aren’t enough Jewish folks in Newport Beach to result in an acceptable bagel shop for New-Yorker-at-heart FP Jones—and yells out his customary Saturday morning cry of “Bagels!” </p><p>Archie’s eyes light up, and Jughead laughs; clearly, Archie is as hungry as he is. </p><p>“Race you?” Jughead asks, a part of him worried it was too immature a suggestion. </p><p>But Archie’s running past him toward the kitchen before Jughead can blurt out the “just kidding” on the tip of his tongue. </p><p>Jughead grins, a swooping of excitement in his stomach as he follows.</p><p>Over breakfast, FP suggests that Jughead show Archie their boat down on the beach. Archie nods not-unenthusiastically, which from what Jughead can ascertain so far means that he’s generally down. His mom is at her Yogalates class with the other Newpsie moms—“vultures,” FP says, pointing toward Archie with a cream-cheese-covered knife. </p><p>“Steer clear?” Archie guesses, and both Jughead and FP laugh.</p><p>“You learn quick,” FP says with a proud grin. </p><p>
Jughead’s smile matches his dad’s.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>“So, you do this regularly?” Archie asks incredulously, wiping sweat from his brow.</p><p>Jughead looks out at the private strip of beach where he grew up playing in the sand and learning to swim. He could not feel more privileged than he does at this moment, showing Archie how to sail on the boat that was technically his bar mitzvah gift. </p><p>“Since I was thirteen,” he replies, deciding not to embellish. He’s sure Archie’s more than capable of filling in the blanks. </p><p>“Does it…”</p><p>“<em>She</em>,” Jughead quickly corrects and Archie laughs.</p><p>“My sincerest apologies,” Archie says. “Does <em>she </em>have a name?”</p><p>Jughead flushes red, turning away from Archie to stare at the sapphire-blue waters of Newport, shining in the stubbornly bright sun like the jewels adorning the ring fingers of the town’s many trophy wives. He hates it here. There’s only one thing—well, one <em>person</em>—who has ever convinced him it was worth sticking around.</p><p>And that person is Betty Cooper. Though he privately calls her…</p><p>“Nancy Drew,” Jughead blurts out. “I’m kind of too chickenshit to actually pull the trigger and paint it on the side though.”</p><p>“Nancy Drew,” Archie repeats, considering. “Like the mystery-solving girl from the book series? My friend Toni used to read those religiously growing up.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, technically,” Jughead says. “It’s just…” He realizes, as he ponders whether to divulge his deepest secret to Archie, that he’s the only person he’s ever <em>wanted </em>to tell. That must mean something. “I kind of nicknamed this...girl that.”</p><p>Archie smiles and whistles lowly. “Who’s the lucky girl?”</p><p>“Well...I should say, I nicknamed her it kind of...in my head. She doesn’t know. It’s never come up in conversation,” Jughead knows he’s rambling, as he often does when it comes to Betty Cooper. Tongue-tied, flustered, rattling off fun facts about cinematic history. Those are all the kind of things that happen when Jughead Jones is in the presence of Betty Cooper, who barely knows he exists despite them having gone to school together since kindergarten. </p><p>“Her name’s Betty. I’m kind of...you know, mildly in love with her,” Jughead explains to Archie’s confused face. “And she’s kinda...mildly unaware I exist.”</p><p>Archie’s face morphs into an understanding frown. “I bet if she got to know you, she’d like you,” Archie says. “And I bet that she’d like that you named her boat after her. Girls love romantic stuff like that. Though why Nancy Drew?”</p><p>“She’s in charge of the school newspaper,” Jughead says quickly. “<em>The Blue and Gold</em>. She does a badass job, and always tracks down the truth.”</p><p>“Ah,” Archie says, nodding, looking out at the rippling blue water. “Nancy Drew.” </p><p>“So…” Jughead suddenly feels nervous again. “You...have actual experience with girls, I presume?” He gestures toward Archie’s torso. </p><p>Archie nods. “I used to have a kind of...girlfriend back in Chino,” Archie explains. “Valerie.” His face still lights up when he says her name, so Jughead assumes it wasn’t too bad a break-up.</p><p>“Does she know you’re here?” Jughead asks. </p><p>Archie shakes his head. “Nah. No one really does. I haven’t called anyone or anything.” He looks away again, toward the sea, like maybe if he squints hard enough he’ll catch a glimpse of his friends in Chino.</p><p>“That’s hard,” Jughead says. “Being away from home.” </p><p>Archie’s quiet for a while, but when he speaks again it’s maybe the most Jughead has heard Archie say at once so far. “It’s pretty nice here though,” Archie says. “Home...home wasn’t so good. It never really <em>felt </em>like home. You…” He gestures toward the strip of sand, up toward the beachfront property where Jughead has lived all his life. “You live in a <em>home</em>. And I don’t just mean all the fancy stuff. Your parents...they love you, they care about you. They’d notice if you didn’t come home. Don’t take that for granted.”</p><p>Jughead swallows hard. This isn’t fair. Why should he get to have all of this, just because he happened to be born in the <em>correct</em> southernCalifornia town? </p><p>“Thanks, Arch,” he says, the nickname tumbling out naturally.</p><p>Archie smiles. “Any time...<em>Jug</em>.”</p><p>Jughead shakes his head, laughing. “Anyway, so. Let’s talk music. What do you-”</p><p>“Boys!” </p><p>Jughead and Archie turn to find FP walking down the sandy path toward them, wearing his surf shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. “My dad is such a dad sometimes,” Jughead murmurs, and Archie laughs.</p><p>“What’s up, dad?” Jughead says when FP finally reaches them. </p><p>“It’s getting late,” he replies, gesturing toward the sun, making its descent toward the horizon. “I just wanted to make sure you two would have enough time to get ready for the fashion show.”</p><p>Jughead groans, having forgotten about that particularly obnoxious Newpsie function in the haze and excitement of sailing with a new friend. </p><p>“Ugh, do we <em>have</em> to go?” Jughead asks. “Archie and I have many games to play, many movies to watch.”</p><p>“Your mom wants you there,” FP starts, but before he can continue, Jughead launches into one of his patented speeches. </p><p>“I’ve never exactly been liked by any of my classmates, nor have I particularly enjoyed most of them, so why subject myself to them before school has even begun? And can I ask: why do they even <em>need</em> a fashion show? Every day is a fashion show for these people!”</p><p>“You know as well as I do that it’s for charity, Jug. And however you may feel about it, Archie <em>has </em>to go,” FP says, in that fatherly voice that means he has an agenda. “<em>Veronica</em> invited him.” FP wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Jughead sighs deeply before turning to Archie, surprised by this development itself as much as the fact that his dad knows more about it than he does.</p><p>“<em>Veronica</em> invited you?” Jughead says to Archie. “I've lived next door to Veronica since like, forever. Her dad almost got married to my mom even, and I’ve never been invited to her parties.”</p><p>“That’s not true, they didn’t almost get married,” FP interjects. </p><p>Archie thinks for a second and then offers, “Maybe Betty’d be there.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Jughead says, rolling the possibility around in his mind. He’d never considered actually...<em>trying</em> when it came to Betty Cooper. His crush was a mere fantasy. He saw how many guys were always surrounding her; he figured he didn’t have a shot in real life. </p><p>“She <em>is</em> Veronica’s best friend,” Jughead says out loud, realizing he’s still in the presence of Archie and his dad, with his annoyingly knowing smirk.</p><p> “We’re going,” Archie says confidently to FP and Jughead flushes as his dad turns to him for final confirmation.</p><p>“Yeah, okay,” Jughead says, running a hand through his damp hair. “We’ll check it out.”</p><p>“Excellent!” FP says, clapping his hands together. “That’ll get your mother off my back. I’ll go tell her and you two get back out on the water. You’ve got another hour before you have to start getting ready.”</p><p>And before Jughead and Archie can protest, FP turns and heads back toward the house, mission accomplished. </p><p>“At least we’re in it together?” Archie suggests as they turn back toward the water. </p><p>“In it together,” Jughead repeats with a smile, tossing a line over to Archie.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica stands on her terrace with a cup of coffee, sipping and watching Archie and Jughead on the beach below. She’s seen Jughead sailing out there nearly every day for years, but never with someone else aside from the occasional FP or Gladys. </p><p>She woke up today determined to stop thinking about the boy next door but she <em>can’t. </em>Especially when he’s <em>right there</em> on the beach—and when he’s peeling his shirt off. </p><p>Veronica can’t help but lick her lips. His abs are...exactly what she’d imagined last night, once she’d finally escaped to her room, where she could tune everyone out and just <em>be </em>with herself. </p><p>She takes a big gulp of coffee and tries to push down the desire that’s once again bubbling so readily to the surface. She barely even remembers her dinner with Reggie, so consumed by this unfamiliar tingling in her stomach had she been. </p><p>And as Veronica watches Jughead and Archie throw their heads back in laughter on the shore below, she’s even more intrigued by his apparent ability to light up her surly next-door neighbor. </p><p>Before she can go to her bed and...<em>do something</em> about these swirling feelings, the doorbell rings, harshly and loudly. </p><p>Veronica sighs. The housekeeper has been dropped down to just one day a week, an odd change that Veronica has clocked with thinly veiled anxiety. She listens for her dad’s footsteps, as he’s been working from his home study suspiciously often lately; Hermione, of course, is out getting her hair done for tonight’s event. </p><p>The bell rings again, and Veronica sighs and places her coffee cup down, slipping into heels and walking past Hiram’s study. </p><p>“Can you get it, mija?” comes his soft, almost pleading voice the second he hears her feet padding along the hall. </p><p>Veronica nods, her heart beating the same way it did when she heard her parents having a fight over a bill her mom had rung up at Barney’s—a normal activity her mom has done at least once a month for as long as Veronica can remember. “Okay,” she says, jumping into dutiful daughter mode as the doorbell rings for a third time, insistently, and the pit in the bottom of her stomach only grows.</p><p>“I’m coming!” she calls as her feet tap against the marble entryway floors. Finally, Veronica Lodge turns the lock, her face and stance the picture of poise, like Hermione taught her. You would barely know she’s still wearing her pajamas...silk, of course. </p><p>It’s <em>them</em> again. </p><p>Wearing navy blue uniforms, holsters on their hips. Waving the license that says “FBI.” That says “you know the worst suspicions you’ve ever had about your dad? They’re probably true.”</p><p>This time, there’s three of them, and Veronica notes that they’re literally multiplying, steadily, with each visit. “Is your dad here?” the one in front asks, softly, as if she’s a five-year-old and not nearly an adult. <em>On days like these I feel closer to an adult than a teenager, that’s for sure. </em></p><p>“Nope,” Veronica says, relishing in popping the “p.” “Can I take a message?” she asks sweetly, blinking her long eyelashes in the way that always wins Reggie over during an argument. </p><p>The agent in the back sighs. “Of course,” he mutters under his breath, but Veronica doesn’t flinch.</p><p>The one in front clears his throat and presents a not-unfamiliar phrase: “When you see him again, will you let him know we want to talk to him?” He hands over a crisp business card, one that Veronica knows her dad will roll up into a little ball and toss toward his wastebasket to join the others. </p><p>“I will definitely do that,” Veronica says. “Have a great day, you three.”</p><p>They give curt nods and the bare minimum in pleasantries, before turning back toward their sleek car. Veronica watches them until they drive away, finally letting out the breath she’d been holding.</p><p>Her heart is beating rapidly as she heads back up the stairs toward her dad’s study, pinching the FBI agent’s business card between her fingers like it’s a dead bug she’s getting ready to flush down the toilet.</p><p><em>God, I want</em>—<em>no, </em>need—<em>a drink.</em></p><p>The door to Hiram’s study is closed, but he immediately calls “Come in!” when she knocks twice.</p><p>She sighs. <em>He’s hiding. He’s 100%, without a doubt, hiding. How do I pretend he’s not?</em></p><p>When she opens the door, her dad has on that special smile he saves only for her. “Hey, thanks, mija. I just didn’t have...time to deal with those guys right now.”</p><p>“Right,” Veronica says, holding out the business card for him. He takes it, scoffing at the gold lettering. “Who are they?” Veronica asks, choosing her words carefully. “Everything’s okay, right?”</p><p>“Of course, mija,” her dad replies far too quickly, and Veronica nods in a way she hopes is convincing. “Just an ugly part of doing business, that’s all.”</p><p>Veronica doesn’t mention that she’s quite sure FBI home visits are not a <em>normal </em>part of being a financial planner unless you’re involved in some shady shit, but she plays the charade like she always does. </p><p>“I’m just so busy,” Hiram repeats, and Veronica nods, smiling warmly.</p><p>“I’ll leave you to it then,” she says, shutting the door lightly behind her and heading back to her room. Between her dad’s undisclosed drama and the way the boy next door made her feel, Veronica needs her best friend.</p><p>At her vanity, Veronica quickly picks up her antique rotary phone and dials Betty Cooper’s number, the one she’s known by heart since they were six years old. </p><p>Betty picks up on the first ring. “V! Thank <em>God</em>. I am so bored over here, and I can’t decide what to wear tonight.”</p><p>Veronica smiles, the sound of Betty’s voice alone soothing her. “I could sense that you needed me,” Veronica jokes and Betty laughs. </p><p>“You are my <em>soulmate</em>,” Betty sing-songs back. “Okay, so…” Veronica can hear Betty get up, probably from her own carefully-organized desk, and move across the room, almost certainly in the direction of her walk-in closet. “I know I’ll only be wearing it for hors d'oeuvres, but I like to make a good first impression. Should I wear that ruffly blue number, or that little black dress we got at the mall last week?”</p><p>Veronica taps a pom-pom pen against her chin and considers. Having been present when Betty purchased both ensembles, she can envision them both clear as day. “Go with the blue,” she replies. “More fashion show-appropriate. The black dress is better for whatever the next cocktail-attire event is.”</p><p>“True! Thanks, V,” Betty says, and Veronica hears the sound of hangers moving around on a metal bar. “What are you up to?”</p><p>“Just getting ready, like you,” Veronica says. “I’m a little nervous.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t be. You did amazing, as always. You’re the best event planner in our whole grade,” Betty gushes, and Veronica can hear her move across the room again.</p><p>“Stop looking at yourself in the mirror, you look divine,” Veronica says quickly and Betty gasps in mock-outrage. </p><p>“How did you know?” </p><p>“I’m your soulmate, remember?”</p><p>Betty sighs, and Veronica is relieved to hear the sound of Betty collapsing back into her desk chair. “The Stepmonster is being an extra pain in my ass today,” she admits, and Veronica sighs empathetically.</p><p>“Alright, let it out, B.”</p><p>“Okay, so first of all, this morning she comes down during breakfast…”</p><p>Veronica sits back in her chair. This is the normalcy she was craving, so she lets Betty rant about her truly evil stepmother for a good twenty minutes. They’re only interrupted by Hermione coming by to remind Veronica to “wear the Chanel, and why aren’t you in the shower yet?”</p><p>“Ugh, my mom’s calling for me,” Veronica says with a sigh. It feels like she’s been lying to Betty, not telling her about the storm brewing inside her since the night before. </p><p>As if on cue, Betty asks, “are you sure you’re okay, V? I just...got the feeling you called me for a reason.”</p><p>Veronica laughs. “I-”</p><p>“Ah, there <em>is</em> something.”</p><p>Veronica Lodge doesn’t falter. She doesn’t let anyone see her pain, even when it’s raging so deep inside that she feels like she can’t hold it in a second longer. When that happens, Veronica finds Betty Cooper, the one person who has ever been able to see past the mask she puts on as dutiful daughter, River Vixen, student activities chair. Betty will understand. She’s the <em>only</em> one who will, in fact.</p><p>Veronica sighs, can feel Hermione’s glare hot on her face. Now is not the time. </p><p>“I’ll see you there, B,” she emphasizes the ‘B,’ hoping her best friend will understand it’s code for “mom’s within earshot, we’ll talk later.”</p><p>“Roger that, <em>V</em>. Meet me outside at 5:00 sharp,” Betty responds, and then they hang up for the time being. </p><p>“Alright, Mom, I’ll get in the shower,” Veronica says, finally successfully shooing her mom away, already fully outfitted in an overpriced dress fit for a movie star rather than a community charity fashion show.</p><p>When she returns to her bedroom and runs her hands over the smooth fabric of her outfit, Veronica can’t help but wonder if Archie will show up. If he’ll rove his eyes over her the same way he did the night before, in that way that made her feel...<em>seen.</em> How else to describe the way he’d been able to see right through her, to her very essence, despite only having met for a mere ten minutes?</p><p>Distracted, Veronica tries to run through her itinerary for the night instead, slips the speech she’d drafted inside her clutch. But her mind can’t stop flitting back to Archie and she feels guilty again, thinking of Reggie picking her up the night before, the oblivious yet sweet smile on his face when he asked, “Who was that?”</p><p>Veronica takes a deep, cleansing breath, and then lets it back out. Veronica Lodge doesn’t falter, she reminds herself, before heading down that marble staircase and into the bejeweled jungle of Newport Beach. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Betty Cooper frowns into her own vanity mirror, replaying all her recent conversations with Veronica in an attempt to decode the very cryptic excuse she’d given for not baring her soul per usual. </p><p>Betty sighs with the weight of an unsolved mystery, standing up and heading over to her walk-in closet to stare for the fifteenth time today at the two outfit choices she’d put out two days earlier. She moves the rejected ensemble down the metal bar absently. </p><p>Like she’d perhaps downplayed for Veronica, Betty is just...bored. No other way to put it. </p><p>It’s weird to want school to come back, but she does. Wants the purpose of running the newspaper again, of helping Veronica plan the kick-off carnival or some mundane charity ball. It all beats sitting in this house, with her Stepmonster and the absence of her dad hanging heavy in the air. </p><p>She thinks of the classic car sitting half-built in their giant garage, the one she was working on with her dad before he changed his specialty to plastic surgery. Before he stopped coming home quite so often. She’d considered picking it back up this summer, dusting off her old mechanic skills and embracing the solitude, but she hasn’t been able to get herself past the door. It was always her and Hal’s thing, and it just feels <em>wrong </em>to work on it alone. </p><p>Betty doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. By Newport Beach standards, she’s having the idyllic summer before senior year. After all, she’s been invited to at least one beach party a weekend, kissed a few cute tourist boys on the beach, and tanned her ass off with Veronica nearly every day. She <em>should</em> be happy. Her sister would’ve been.</p><p>From far too early an age, Polly had taken Betty to parties while watching her, so Betty knows how to hold her liquor, how to hold in a hit of marijuana to get a nice buzz. She also knows how to make out with boys. She doesn’t appreciate that people associate her with that, rather than with her award-winning reign as editor-in-chief of<em> the Blue and Gold. </em>But she supposes the reputation comes with the Cooper name at The Harbor School.</p><p>Curling her finger into her palms—a bad habit that only her mom used to notice—Betty sighs, taking in the silence around her. She should be used to it by now, shouldn’t she? </p><p>She tries not to bother anyone about it. Ever since she was younger, and her sister Polly started acting out, she had dutifully filled the role of bubbly, agreeable Betty Cooper. It was easier for everyone that way. But then Betty’s mom died suddenly—a car crash—and Polly moved across the country, to her father’s great disapproval. After that, her dad started working more. A lot more. So much so that Betty was surprised—and she hopes not as visibly revolted as she felt inside—when Hal Cooper brought home a patient, Penelope Blossom.</p><p>She hadn’t wanted to cause conflict, so she swallowed down her real reaction which would’ve gone something like bursting into tears and maybe a pitiful “I didn’t even realize you were dating again.”</p><p>They were married two months later.</p><p>Still, her dad didn’t stop being the workaholic he’d become since Alice Cooper died. It left Betty in a house with a woman she barely knew, but who she soon found was barely ever sober. She seemed to subsist off a rotating cocktail of drugs, and her tendency for harsh emotional jabs only worsened the drunker she got. Betty and Veronica had taken to calling her “the Stepmonster” at the wedding after Penelope yelled at the bridal party. </p><p>Once pictures were finally over, Veronica stole a bottle of champagne and the two of them hid under the gift table drinking and—if Betty’s being honest—crying on Veronica’s shoulder. </p><p>Thankfully, their house is so big that Betty can avoid the Stepmonster most days. </p><p>If there’s anything Betty knows, it’s that Veronica is always there for her, and most days that’s enough. But it doesn’t cure her loneliness. Nothing ever has.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jughead’s room looks like one of those teen Pottery Barn catalogs Toni used to flip through for inspiration, scoffing at the prices. “Who could <em>possibly</em> afford this?” she’d joke to Fangs and Archie before tossing it on the recycling pile with the rest of the junk mail. Well, apparently Archie had found the answer in Newport Beach.</p><p>The bedspread matches the room’s paint color—blue, apparently—though the walls are so covered in band posters that Archie is mostly guessing on that one. There’s a well-loved, expensive-looking stereo propped up on top of his dresser, a bookshelf crammed to capacity, and a spacious desk covered in CDs and drawing supplies and comic books. However, as Jughead leads Archie into this teenage wonderland, his new friend’s tone seems to indicate that Jughead knows exactly what Archie’s thinking. </p><p>“This is it,” Jughead says nervously, with an exaggerated, slightly self-deprecating flourish. “Please feel free to borrow literally anything at any time. I know this is…” He looks around, eyes seeming to land on a Death Cab for Cutie poster before locking eyes with Archie. “...excessive, to say the least.”</p><p>“At least you’re self aware about it,” Archie jokes, sitting awkwardly on the edge of Jughead’s bed. </p><p>Jughead laughs, turning his back on Archie to open his closet door. Archie’s eyes widen as a lightbulb turns on automatically, revealing rows and rows of pants and shirts and ties. “Getting dressed for these things is the worst,” Jughead says, his voice slightly muffled as he rummages through his closet.</p><p>“I’ll take your word for it,” Archie says, his stomach suddenly swooping with anxiety. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment how socially unprepared he likely is for whatever event they’ll be walking into in an hour. An event organized, it sounded like, by Veronica. He’d fallen asleep with images dancing in his head of raven hair splayed on his pillow, of carefully pulling the string of pearls from around her neck so he could pepper kisses all along her soft skin. <em>Fuck.</em></p><p>Jughead emerges with an armful of hangers, spreading four or five different suits out on the bed haphazardly. “So, this is the dress code,” he explains, face reddening. “Believe me, I hate it as much as you do.” </p><p>Jughead pauses as Archie stares at the clothing, realizing he’s expected to put at least one of these ensembles on. “The food’s always really good,” Jughead adds. </p><p>“You should’ve led with that one,” Archie jokes and they both laugh. Again, thoughts of Veronica enter Archie’s mind, and he likes the image he conjures of her when she first lays her eyes on him in one of these suits.</p><p>“New kid’s choice,” Jughead says, pointing to the outfits and Archie picks one at random, too nervous to give it too much thought.</p><p>He shrugs at Jughead’s raised eyebrow. “What?”</p><p>“You just picked the most expensive one, and I admire that about you,” Jughead responds.</p><p>Archie rolls his eyes as he heads back to the pool house to change, yelling over his shoulder, “They all look exactly the same!”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Archie stands at the mirror propped in the pool house—Jughead had explained to Archie earlier that the structure functions as equal parts storage and occasional guest room—and tries for the fifth time to make the black tie sit correctly over his shirt. When he fails yet again, Archie tears the thing from around his neck and puts it on the dresser. He adjusts his collar, and stares at himself in the mirror. This’ll do.</p><p>There’s a knock at the glass door, and Archie turns to see FP waving at him. He nods and beckons him inside. </p><p>“You almost ready?” FP checks, a smile crossing his face as he takes in Archie’s outfit. Archie had combed his hair back too, thinking of how Veronica’s eyes might light up when she sees him, all dressed up and looking like he actually belongs in her world.</p><p>“Yep,” Archie replies.</p><p>“Where’s your tie?”</p><p>“Not gonna wear one,” Archie says, feigning sartorial confidence. “Open collar? It’s a good look.”</p><p>
FP gives him a knowing smile before crossing the room toward the mirror. “I didn’t know how to tie a tie until I was 25. I’ll show you.”</p><p>Archie squirms a little at first, watching as FP carefully fastens the silk tie, narrating as he goes. “So, first you button your top button.” </p><p>He waits patiently while Archie fiddles with the tortoiseshell button. “Alright,” FP says, a warm grin covering his face. “So, the skinny side has <em>got </em>to be shorter than the fat side.” </p><p>Archie looks down at his chest, nodding in acknowledgment as FP loops the two sides of the tie around. “Okay,” he says.</p><p>“So, how was hanging out with Jughead today?” FP asks.</p><p>“He’s cool,” Archie says, and he finds that he genuinely means it. It makes him happy that he can make a satisfied grin spread across FP’s face, like maybe no one’s said that about his son in a long time. Maybe ever. </p><p>FP gives the tie one last little tug, and then pats Archie’s chest before backing away to survey his handiwork. Archie turns to look at his reflection.</p><p>“There you go,” FP says. “Beats a jumpsuit, huh?”</p><p>Archie scowls at him through the mirror.</p><p>“Too soon?” </p><p>Archie shakes his head, laughing. “Maybe.”</p><p>“Meet you outside in ten, kid.”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Uncle Frank had done a stint as a valet, and it gives Archie whiplash to jump out of the Jones’ SUV and watch FP hand over the keys to a teenage Latino boy, who looks so much like a kid he went to Chino High with that he almost does a double take.</p><p>Gladys, it turns out, had volunteered with the event—“she and all the other Newpsie moms always volunteer,” Jughead had explained with a bitter laugh—so Archie sat alone in the back, his eyes glued out the window as he laughed along with Jughead and FP’s nearly nonstop comedy routine they seemed to be perfecting from the front seat.</p><p>“You kids ready?” FP asks, smoothing over his hair as the three men stare down the formidably fancy Newport Country Club.</p><p>Archie’s face must look incredibly doubtful, because FP lets out a big, rumbling laugh and takes Archie by the arm. “Let’s get this over with,” FP says, dragging a jokingly-whiney Jughead along with them.</p><p>“Welcome to the dark side,” Jughead quips as they walk through the door, adorned with a lavish-looking flower display. </p><p>Inside, there’s a full-blown cocktail party happening, gorgeous-looking people in full faces of make-up and expensive ensembles being waited on by smiling, uniformed servers who Archie probably has more in common with than his fellow guests.</p><p>FP is pulled aside by other adults in suits within a minute of entering the party, leaving Archie with a Jughead who looks a little more out of his element than he’d probably like to admit. </p><p>“Should we...get a drink?” Jughead suggests and Archie nods, happy to follow his new friend’s lead. </p><p>The pair of them walk slowly in the direction of the closest bar, Archie  trying to calculate the chances of the bartender serving him. He could really use a stiff whiskey right about now, if he’s being honest. Take the edge off. There’s the feeling-like-everything-is-made-of-porcelain aspect, that fear he’ll somehow topple over a romanesque statue or ruin an ice sculpture—and then there’s the feel of Veronica’s gaze as it roves over his face. His hands are clammy just thinking about seeing her again. </p><p>In the meantime, they get the next closest thing: in front of them in line at the bar stands the dude who’d been driving the hummer that picked Veronica up the night before. </p><p>He turns at the sound of Jughead and Archie stopping behind him, and Archie’s defenses are immediately up from the way the dark-haired dude sizes them both up, but especially at the mirth in his eyes when he sees Jughead. </p><p>“Hey, Reggie, what’s up?” Jughead tries, his voice shrinking in a way Archie hasn’t heard since they met earlier today.</p><p>“What’s up, dweeb?” Reggie responds, scoffing. “What are you even doing here?”</p><p>Archie wants to say something, but the way Jughead’s eyes drop to the ground, like this was exactly what he was expecting, also makes Archie assume he doesn’t want a bigger deal made out of this moment than is already warranted.</p><p>Before Archie can make a decision, Reggie grabs his drink from the bartender and gives Jughead a shove for good measure before leaving for his other jackass-y looking friends, suited up and sniggering in the corner of the room.</p><p>The bartender laughs at Archie and Jughead’s request for two whiskeys, handing them Shirley Temples that have Jughead’s cheeks reddening. </p><p>“Sorry we couldn’t get actual alcohol,” he says to Archie as they walk away from the bar.</p><p>“Was that Veronica’s boyfriend?” Archie asks, and Jughead laughs.</p><p>“You have it bad for Veronica Lodge, don’t you?”</p><p>Archie’s cheeks redden this time, but before he can think of an appropriate comeback, Jughead whisper-yells, grabbing Archie’s shoulder in his excitement. “Oh my God, don’t look...don’t look but Betty’s right there.”</p><p>Archie turns, and he can barely hear Jughead’s nervous sputtering because indeed—there <em>she</em> is. Next to the apparent blonde bombshell of Jughead’s affections stands Veronica Lodge, looking absolutely stunning in a cocktail dress that hugs in all the right places. </p><p>“Stop, stop, you’re <em>looking</em>,” Jughead insists nervously, reminding Archie that he’s supposed to be catching a glimpse of the famous Nancy Drew, rather than ogling Veronica Lodge. They’re only interrupted by FP returning, now with a drink in hand.</p><p>“Is that Betty?” FP asks, pointing rather embarrassingly across the reflecting pool at the girl laughing and talking with Veronica, and Jughead takes off for the kids’ table before Archie can even react.</p><p>“Way to salt his game, Mr. Jones,” Archie says, shaking his head. </p><p>FP frowns, and Archie follows after Jughead, not wanting to get stuck watching this fashion show alone. The horror.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Betty and Veronica emerge from the red curtain separating the models from the guests, having dropped their bags at their makeup chairs. </p><p>(Hermione, ever the dutiful volunteer, had sharply reminded them that they were allowed only thirty minutes of cocktail hour before they had to have their “butts in chairs.”</p><p>To which Veronica had replied: “I planned this event, mom,” before grabbing Betty by the elbow and whisking her away.)</p><p>Still, Veronica hasn’t told Betty what’s going on, not since they met outside the country club gates twenty minutes earlier. The look on Veronica’s face made it clear that she was trying to keep it together until after the fashion show had gone off without a hitch, as Betty knew it would. No event of Veronica’s or newspaper issue of Betty’s had ever failed. The two of them always made sure of it. </p><p>Now, Betty tries to observe Veronica without it being too obvious what she’s doing. </p><p>The perfect distraction comes in the form of a new face, standing out easily in the normal crowd that’s always on the guest list for these things.</p><p>“Who <em>is </em>that?” she asks Veronica, watching an unfamiliar yet handsome red-headed boy graze at the appetizers table across the pool.</p><p>Veronica shrugs. “I don’t know, kid from out of town. His name’s Archie. Staying with the Joneses.”</p><p><em>Jones</em>. The name <em>does </em>ring a bell, and she’s almost certain it belongs to the dark-haired, awkward-looking, but not unattractive kid standing next to Archie, talking a mile a minute if the hand gestures are anything to go by.</p><p>“New kid in town, very interesting,” Betty remarks, watching them. </p><p>“Kind of nice to see Jughead actually laughing with a friend,” Veronica says with another shrug, and suddenly it comes flooding back to her: <em>Jughead</em>. Betty remembers a single, kind moment they’d shared in elementary school, the quiet boy with the beanie telling the other kids off for making fun of her mermaid poem. </p><p>“Girls!” It’s the unmistakable shrill voice of Hermione Lodge, but Betty finds it comforting. Ever since losing her mom it’s all she has. </p><p>“<em>What, </em>Mom?” Veronica asks, exasperated.</p><p>“It’s time for you two to get ready for the fashion show, let’s get you changed.”</p><p>“We’ll see you back there in a minute, Mrs. Lodge,” Betty says quickly, sharing a look with Veronica. After Hermione has walked away, Betty jerks her head toward the closest bar. Veronica nods, tapping her nose and heading for the bar in the opposite direction.</p><p>A nod-grimace at her ex—<em>ugh, why is Adam </em>always<em> at these things</em>—a polite nod toward a waiter she sidesteps just in time, and then Betty’s swiping two champagne flutes off a tray resting on the bar, waiting to be swept up by a black-vested caterer. </p><p>Betty looks around quickly to ensure she hasn’t been spotted, before walking with a confident purpose back toward the dressing room. </p><p>She finds Veronica in the bathroom, already working on her make-up. She turns in a half-second of surprise when Betty backs her way into the room, handless as she clutches the two pilfered flutes. </p><p>“Look what I stole!” she says, holding up the champagne flutes to Veronica’s excited face.</p><p>“Look what <em>I</em> stole,” Veronica counters, her voice proud and calculated.</p><p>Their usual trick is to grab a couple spare drinks off a waiter’s tray, but Veronica struck gold: she holds up a handle of vodka triumphantly, almost a trophy. </p><p>Betty grins, a gratefulness for the endless surprise that is her best friend coursing through her. “Cheers,” she says, and they clink glasses, letting just a sliver of the bathroom door stay open to keep watch for Hermione Lodge. </p><p>From outside, they can hear her, or some other Newpsie mom: “ten minutes till curtain, ladies!”</p><p>“Bottoms up, Betts,” Veronica says, before emptying her glass in a single gulp.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jughead soothes his worries at the kids’ table, a frantic talk with one of his thirteen-year-old sailing students, who sympathetically humors him. Archie rescues him about two minutes later, and Jughead can’t say he isn’t grateful to finally have someone to come collect him when he’s regressed four years.</p><p>And so when the fashion show begins, Jughead sits at his monogrammed seat—“Jones family,” reads the placard in gold, looping script—in between Archie and FP, Gladys signaling for him to straighten his back from across their table. </p><p>“Thank you all so much for coming out tonight,” Veronica says from the stage, glittering like a model rather than a normal high school senior. “Altogether, we managed to raise $300,000 for the battered womens’ shelter.”</p><p>Jughead claps along with the rest of the adoring crowd, though he privately thinks that these charity galas are just a way for these rich people to feel better about themselves. If they <em>really </em>cared they wouldn’t hoard so much wealth. But Jughead has lived in Newport Beach his whole life; the only reason he even has these ideas in his head is because of being raised by FP Jones, who left a strategically-placed copy of <em>The Communist Manifesto</em> in Jughead’s path around his fifteenth birthday. Jughead has never understood how FP managed to fall for Gladys, the daughter of the most notorious real estate developer in Orange County, hard enough to give up his hippie-like tendencies and put down roots in such a materialistic place. But that union is what created him, a walking contradiction of a person, stuck here for just one more year. </p><p>Jughead looks up, realizing the clapping has subsided, and there she is—opening the show, it’s the one and only Betty Cooper. Her hair shines in the harsh runway lights, freed from its usual ponytail and cascading down her shoulders. She wears a 70s-inspired dress and long go-go boots that accentuate her legs, and Jughead’s mouth goes completely dry as he watches her. She struts down the runway confidently, her gaze never seeming to land on just one person so it looks like she has a secret smile reserved for every single one of them. He wonders what she’s thinking—or, knowing her reputation, maybe <em>who</em> she’s thinking <em>about</em>—but it’s impossible to tell, her laser-focus is that good. </p><p>She turns on her heel, and Jughead can’t help but appreciate the backside just as much, accentuated as it is by the dress. FP slaps him on the arm, and Jughead wonders if it’s possible that he’s actually started drooling. </p><p>Jughead straightens his tie, squirming a little in his seat and rolling his eyes at the knowing glance Archie shoots him. Of course, he’s one to talk. </p><p>The show’s final act comes sooner than this lavish gala would seem to suggest—all in all, the main event lasts no more than fifteen minutes—and as Veronica Lodge struts down the runway, all ruffles and glitter and that ice-cold stare, Archie looks to be in complete awe.</p><p>When she stops at the end of the runway, a purposeful hand to her hip, she seems to recognize Archie. Veronica’s smile widens, and Jughead can tell it’s genuine, not one of those fake-Newport smiles all their moms taught them from a young age for family portrait sessions and long charity auctions.</p><p>
Jughead can’t help but nudge Archie as Veronica turns and makes her way back down the runway, applause erupting as the rest of the models file back out for a final bow. </p><p>“Dude, she <em>smiled </em>at you,” Jughead hisses to Archie, who shoots Jughead a single, withering look that he reads as “<em>be cool</em>.” Not something Jughead is particularly familiar with, so he’ll take the note. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica is a goddess. </p><p>Archie’s thoroughly convinced.</p><p>How else to explain that smile that split across her face when she spotted him sitting at the Jones table? Hand on her hip, her glance moved across the crowd before landing on him and staying put just a millisecond too long, the smile deepening unmistakably as her eyes danced. Just the way they’d danced the night before, when it was just the two of them. He knows he’s not crazy because Jughead noticed it too, gave him a nudge that had Archie feeling like an elementary school kid with a crush. </p><p>Apparently Veronica was the last to come down the runway—the grand finale—which actually really jives with the rest of his “Veronica is a goddess” theory. </p><p>All the other girls—every single one gorgeous and perfectly primped and styled, <em>boy, they know how to make them in Newport Beach</em>—are promenading down the runway, blowing kisses to the audience. Archie joins everyone around him and gets to his feet as they applaud. It feels like such a performance, one that the audience is intimately a part of.</p><p>Jughead pulls Archie out of his head with a friendly clap on the shoulder, signaling it’s time to leave. </p><p>“It’s over already?” Archie says with a laugh.</p><p>“Thank God,” Jughead says, though he looks just about as hot and bothered as Archie does. </p><p>And over a girl who certainly has a boyfriend, Archie reminds himself. The kind of boyfriend who drives a Hummer and casually calls Jughead a “dweeb.” <em>What is this, a 90s sitcom?</em></p><p>Nevertheless, Archie follows Jughead and FP toward the exit—again, apparently Gladys has volunteered to clean up. The rituals of this strange land are beginning to present themselves. </p><p>“Let me go get the car,” FP says, heading toward the valet stand with his ticket. </p><p>It leaves Archie and Jughead to lean against one of the giant potted plants dotting the front of the club, both clearly collecting themselves from what they’d seen inside. “I need a smoke,” Archie says suddenly, and Jughead nods.</p><p>“I’d move a little farther away if I were you,” Jughead says. “I’ll cover for you.”</p><p>Archie nods gratefully, remembering FP’s words about smoking, and walks another few feet away from the pristine country club. </p><p>Before he can pull out his carton, voices start to carry in his direction. He looks up to find Betty Cooper walking toward him with a giant smile on her face. Her hair is tied into a ponytail now, but the heavy stage make-up still brightens her face, making her look larger than life. She’s broken away from a pack of glamorous-looking girls, all recognizable from the fashion show. Veronica, however, is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“Hey,” she says when she’s within earshot. “I just wanted to introduce myself. My name’s Betty. Betty Cooper.” She holds out a hand, and Archie takes it, unsure the last time a teenager shook his hand. </p><p>“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Archie Andrews.”</p><p>“Cousin from Boston, right?” Betty checks and Archie flushes, the confirmation that Veronica had <em>talked about him to her best friend</em> hanging in the air. </p><p>He grunts noncommittally, which seems to be enough for Betty because next she says, “My friend Josie is having a party at her parents’ beach house. You should totally come along.”</p><p>She jerks her head in the direction of the throng of girls, and sees they’re now climbing into a yellow Jeep.</p><p>“Thanks,” Archie says. “Can I bring…” He looks across the driveway at Jughead, seemingly staring into space. “...my friend Jughead?”</p><p>Betty nods, backing away toward her friends. “Sure, just bring him now or we’ll leave without you!” She smiles sweetly after saying it, and then runs away toward her friends, ponytail whipping in the air. Another crowd of people have emerged from the country club, and Archie recognizes Reggie and his posse waiting for their cars at the valet station. Maybe Veronica’s riding with them.</p><p>Archie decides to forgo the cigarettes for a moment. His first thought is that Veronica might be going to the same party they were just invited to. He makes a beeline for Jughead, and cocks his head in the direction of the yellow Jeep. “Let’s go to that party,” he says.</p><p>“There’s a party?” Jughead says. “Eh, I don’t know…” Jughead glances over at Reggie, and Archie remembers the earlier comment. What an asshole. Veronica deserves better. It makes him want to go even more.</p><p>“Betty invited me...us,” Archie says, seeing the most strategic card and playing it. </p><p>“Really?” Jughead asks, his face flushing immediately. He has this unfamiliar expression on his face; maybe it’s hope.</p><p>“Come <em>on</em>, guys!” Betty yells from the back of the Jeep. She’s sitting between a few other girls, all dressed down in tank tops and shorts, looking like an Aeropostale ad. Archie wonders from the lilt in her voice if she’s already been drinking. These Newport girls seem to get away with whatever they want.</p><p>Jughead blushes so red that Archie has to stifle a laugh. “Okay, let’s go,” Jughead says immediately, Betty’s voice like a siren call.</p><p>“Come on, man,” Archie says, helping Jughead into the back of the Jeep, and then they’re off to what they’ll later dub Teen Party Movieland.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>The car ride is mostly an anthropology experiment for Archie. Jughead seems too tongue-tied to say a thing, so they both just sit there and observe, listening to Betty and who he soon learns are two girls named Midge and Melody debrief the fashion show gossip, of which there seems to be an inordinate amount, considering how long the actual event lasted.</p><p>But it’s a short ride. Soon, they’re back on that idyllic beach Archie had spotted when first riding into Newport Beach, stopping in front of yet another giant house. And this one isn’t even the McCoys’ first home. <em>These fucking rich people. </em></p><p>“Welcome to Newport Beach,” Melody says seductively to Archie before jumping down and disappearing into the house. Betty, too, had long run across the sand and into the chaos.</p><p>Inside, there are girls in bikinis dancing with drinks, a coffee table covered in lines of coke and plastic bongs, smoke in the air, a keg and red cups and bottles of top-shelf liquor. This is actually the first truly familiar scene Archie has seen since he got to this town. And so Archie jokingly quips to Jughead, an echo of earlier: “Welcome to the dark side.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Standing with her friends, Betty yawns, covering it up with a hand to her face and a quick swig of beer. Despite her enthusiasm for inviting Archie, she isn’t actually that excited for this party. Just a social obligation she has to get through, so she figured she might as well spice it up a bit. Considering the vibes she’d been feeling when Veronica explained who Archie was, Betty is more than a little suspicious. </p><p>Besides, Veronica and Reggie have barely interacted since they arrived together. Betty wonders if they had one of their infamous fights on the way over.</p><p>“Is that a new purse?” Josie asks, her tone dropping in the way it does when she’s trying to cut deep. There’s an unspoken rivalry between Josie and Veronica that’s lasted as long as Betty can remember. Betty looks up to find that Josie is, indeed, talking about the little Louis Vuitton bag nestled on Veronica’s shoulder. </p><p>Veronica, however, is busy pouring vodka into her cranberry juice. “Yeah,” she replies distractedly.</p><p>“Does your dad ever say no?” Melody asks, snickering with Josie. Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a big gulp, which does not go unnoticed by Betty. </p><p>“You girls got your eye on anyone tonight?” Betty asks, attempting to take the heat off her best friend.</p><p>Josie and Melody take the bait, each playing with a straw in their mixed drink as they scan the crowd of Newport teens. Josie’s gaze lands on Archie, waiting in the short line that’s formed at the keg. “New Kid looks pretty hot,” Josie says, openly ogling him. </p><p>Betty bites her lip, watching Veronica drain her cup and then refill it as Melody joins in with Josie. “I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me.”</p><p>“What did you say his name was, Betty? Artie?”</p><p>“Archie,” Veronica responds sharply.</p><p>“Right, <em>Archie</em>. He’s a tasty young thing,” Josie says. </p><p>Betty turns her attention away from Archie and continues to look around the party, her own gaze landing on Reggie, standing entirely too close to a sophomore River Vixen named Trula. As she watches them, they leave the room together, headed toward the beach with Reggie’s hand on the small of Trula’s back. </p><p>Betty bites her lip, trying to think of alternate explanations as to why Reggie would leave for the secluded beach with another girl. Though the truth is, Betty’s been suspicious of Reggie for awhile now. She’d kind of wondered if Veronica was upset earlier because of him. Maybe she found something out. </p><p>Betty turns back to her friends, wondering if it would do more harm or good to tell Veronica what she saw, when she realizes Veronica has walked away in the time she was distracted. She’s left with Melody and Josie, who shrug and laugh when Betty asks if they know where V went. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica can feel that she’s stumbling, but it’s not just the alcohol that has her reeling. (She knows Josie’s well-worn beach house well, can navigate the corridors black-out drunk when she wants to.) </p><p>Though the alcohol is helping a little, it can’t seem to turn off her brain completely. Her mind is racing, an endless question that she’s afraid to even be asking. She’s looking around the party for someone, but for who?</p><p>
  <em>Archie or Reggie, Archie or Reggie, Archie or Reggie?</em>
</p><p>Veronica has never felt so pulled to someone in her life. She fell into her relationship with Reggie, and it fit like a glove. But never had she felt this...<em>insatiable need</em> to see Reggie the way she’s currently feeling about Archie.</p><p>And so when she spots him all by himself, standing against an end table nursing a red cup, she can’t help but approach him. </p><p>“Hi,” she says, relishing in the way his face brightens. He steps forward to meet her, and she knows she’ll be thinking about the look on his face for the rest of the night.</p><p>“You did really well up there,” Archie says. <em>Oh, he’s a polite one too. </em></p><p>“So...what do you think of Newport?” she asks, letting her head cock to the side and take him in, her eyes searching his body. The liquid courage had done its magic, and she can’t help but flirt, grabbing the red cup he’s been drinking from his hand and taking a swig. </p><p>“I think you could get in more trouble here than where I’m from,” Archie admits, grinning at her. She likes the way he looks at her, like he’s in <em>awe </em>of her existence. </p><p>“Veronica!” It’s Josie and Melody, insisting that she join a round of Never Have I Ever.</p><p>Veronica sighs, taking one more swig of Archie’s beer and then passing it back to him. “You have no idea,” she says to Archie before backing away to join her friends. Before she does something she’ll regret.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The party passes in a blur, Archie’s newness an apparent novelty. Jughead tells Archie that more girls have talked to them tonight than he’s probably ever talked to at his school. Archie isn’t really sure how to process that information. </p><p>Things are going okay. Aside from the fact that he feels thoroughly affected by his single short interaction with Veronica, Archie is nursing his second beer, rocking a nice buzz and laughing at Jughead’s running commentary on the raucous party.</p><p>It’s when Jughead’s in the bathroom that the trouble starts.</p><p>Josie breaks away from the crowd of girls—including Betty—standing across the room, and approaches Archie. She’s surprisingly smooth on her feet, despite the obvious drunken slurring. She touches his arm, looks eagerly into his eyes. Unlike Jughead, this scene is very familiar territory for Archie.</p><p>“Are you enjoying your first Newport party?” Josie asks, and Archie cringes at how close to his conversation with Veronica this is becoming.</p><p>“It’s alright,” Archie says, shifting from foot to foot. “Thanks for inviting us into your home.” </p><p>“Any time, cutie,” Josie replies, reaching out to yank on his tie. Archie leans back and in Josie’s drunken attempts to cling onto him, her drink falls out of her hand and...all over Archie. And more importantly, all over this suit worth more money than he’s probably ever seen in his life. <em>Great, cranberry juice.</em></p><p>Before he knows what’s happening, Betty Cooper is running over to them, a wet paper towel in hand. She starts dabbing at Archie’s chest, giggling a little as she says, “We’ll clean you right up.” </p><p>She has this strong caretaker air about her, and Archie kind of gets why Jughead would be into it. “Thanks so much, Betty,” he says, feeling incredibly embarrassed at the entire predicament. Apparently Josie did too, as she’s nowhere to be seen. </p><p>Betty leans a little closer to get the far side of his chest, and of course that’s the moment that Jughead returns from the bathroom, Veronica unknowingly on his heels.</p><p>Archie can hear the hurt in Jughead’s voice immediately, and it’s only then that Archie realizes he and Betty’s current position looks...compromising to say the least. </p><p>“What the fuck are you doing?” Jughead asks, his face crumpling into a sort of defeated disappointment. </p><p>“I...it’s not what it looks like, man. This other girl spilled a drink…”</p><p>“Is this what you do where you’re from? Maybe you should just go back home to Chino, I’m sure there’s a car you could steal outside.” Jughead’s words cut like ice, loud and crisp enough that everyone within earshot stops and stares. </p><p>“Ew, Chino?” Melody asks loudly, and a jockey looking guy next to her snickers.</p><p>For the first time, Betty looks up from trying to salvage Archie’s shirt, and a flash of fear crosses her face. Archie turns to see what she’s looking at, and finds Veronica Lodge glaring at them both, clear jealousy crossing her face. </p><p>Before any of them can say anything, Jughead runs out the door. </p><p>Archie looks around him, only to find a crowd of overly-made-up teens staring back. Betty stands back from him now, hand still clutching the wet paper towel. She’s the only one not looking at him: no, she’s fixated on Veronica, who is boring holes right through his skull with her intense glare. </p><p>It’s all too much.</p><p>And so Archie runs out the door and across the beach, searching for Jughead.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jughead can barely think straight as he flees down to the beach, his legs carrying him as if on autopilot. The image of Betty’s hands on Archie’s chest won’t stop flashing through his mind, and he actually shakes his head in a failing effort to expel it. He’d had two beers, which was more than he’d ever drank in one sitting, and his head feels hazy. </p><p>He stops to catch his breath, realizing too late that he has company.</p><p>A makeshift bonfire is burning on the beach, a favorite pastime of Newport teens. Surrounding the fire are all of Jughead’s tormentors: Reggie Mantle and his water polo minions Moose Mason and Chuck Clayton and all the other jocks whose names he can’t keep track of, Midge and Trula and various River Vixens standing behind them with arms folded and smirks set across their faces. It’s a decidedly unfriendly vibe, and Jughead starts to back away, realizing his mistake.</p><p>“Look who it is,” Moose sneers.</p><p>Reggie laughs meanly, stepping forward toward Jughead. He gives Jughead an initial shove as he says, “Go home, loser. Who even invited you?”</p><p>“Your girlfriend,” Jughead says, the alcohol clouding his brain and making him forget to keep the sarcastic comments under his breath.</p><p>“What did you say, dickhead?” Reggie yells, landing a punch on Jughead’s stomach. Jughead doubles over in pain. </p><p>This is <em>exactly </em>what he was trying to avoid. There’s still a couple weeks left of summer, and he’s already getting his first back-to-school beatdown as if it’s September.</p><p>“I- said- your- <em>girlfriend</em> invited us,” Jughead chokes out, figuring he may as well double down at this point. These assholes don’t deserve any groveling. He can feel a little pinprick of emotion at the word “us.” Is there still an “us” when it comes to him and Archie?</p><p>“You’re gonna pay for that one, Jones,” Reggie sneers, shoving Jughead again. Moose and Chuck, ever the loyal foot soldiers, join Reggie in lifting Jughead up and shoving him upside down. It’s a familiar routine, one Jughead knows well from many years of experience being the target of the Harbor School bullies. </p><p>“Put him down!” The yell comes through the summer night, and Jughead can’t help but think <em>well, that’s new.</em></p><p>“Hey, Archie,” Jughead says, sighing, from where he’s suspended in midair. The concern he sees in Archie’s eyes—even upside down—has Jughead feeling guilty for what he’d done, what he’d said. </p><p>The crazy part is, it works for the time being. The jocks drop him, instead zeroing in on Archie, who looks worked up and ready for a brawl.</p><p>“You here to save your boyfriend?” Reggie jeers, and Jughead rolls his eyes. So unoriginal. Because of course guys can’t just be friends with genuine care for each other, right? </p><p>Archie responds with an impressive punch to Reggie’s jaw. “Yes!” Jughead calls, but the victory doesn’t last long.</p><p>“Get them!” Reggie screams, punching back at Archie while Moose grabs Jughead and shoves him to the ground, giving him an extra couple punches for good measure before leaving him in the sand.</p><p>Jughead looks feebly to the side, where Reggie has gotten the upper hand to say the least. </p><p>“Welcome to the O.C., bitch!” Reggie yells with a final shove that has Archie face-first in the sand. “This is how it’s done in Orange County,” Reggie adds with an extra laugh, and Jughead can hear the rest of the crowd sneer along with him before their voices finally become a more distant sound as they return to the house, leaving Archie and Jughead alone to literally and figuratively lick their wounds.</p><p>“Dude,” Jughead says. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Archie spits, and they both watch the blood pool on the wet sand. “It’s okay. Let’s talk when we get home, man.”</p><p>They both make an initial attempt at getting to their feet. Jughead feels like the wind has been knocked out of him still. “Sounds like a plan, Arch. You know, once I become capable of actually standing.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After a verbal lashing from Gladys to rival Brittany’s, Archie and Jughead finally decamp to the pool house. Inside, they both collapse, Jughead landing on a pool float being stored near Archie’s bed.</p><p>Jughead speaks first. “I don’t know what to say except...you totally had my back out there. Like, in Fight Club, or something.”</p><p>Archie laughs at that. His mouth feels dry, his lips cracked. He tries to remember how many hours it’s been since he arrived in Newport Beach. It feels like an eternity.</p><p>“It’s okay, man,” Archie says. “And for the record, Josie spilled a drink on me, and Betty was just trying to help clean my shirt. Your shirt. So if you think about it, she was really trying to protect your...shirt.” Archie knows it’s a stretch, but he likes Jughead. Archie doesn’t want Jughead to think he’d ever go after his girl. </p><p> “That actually makes a lot more sense than you just hitting on Betty out of nowhere,” Jughead says, letting out a deep sigh of relief. “I’m sorry for what I said, for telling everyone about...Chino, and the car-stealing, and...everything.”</p><p>“I appreciate the apology, dude,” Archie says. “But to be real, everyone was already looking at me kinda suspiciously. It’s like, you confirmed what they already wanted to be true about me.”</p><p>Jughead shakes his head. “Fuck all of them. You’re cooler than anyone in this shit town, Archie. And I think that we could take ‘em next time. What do you think?”</p><p>Archie laughs, trying to picture Jughead taking on any of those water polo players in a fight. But he humors his new friend: “Sure, Jug. Next time.”</p><p>He wants there to be a next time.</p><p>“So, not to change the subject,” Jughead says. “But...Betty.”</p><p>Archie rests his hand on his face, wincing a little until he can find the least-bruised location for it to rest. “She’s pretty,” Archie offers. “Seems really nice.”</p><p>Jughead smiles, almost proudly. “Sooo, that wasn’t exactly the way I first wanted to talk to her, but at least now I’m on her radar.”</p><p>Archie nods, trying to think of the most diplomatic response here. “That’s one way to put it.”</p><p>Jughead is looking into the distance, probably knee-deep in some fantasy that involves the drink pouring onto Betty instead of Archie. Jughead looks up at Archie and asks, “Do you think I should like...ask her out?”</p><p>Archie shakes his head. “Not yet.”</p><p>“Okay, okay, yeah, that’s what I was gonna say. So I’m glad you said it.”</p><p>Archie smiles. “Sure.”</p><p>Jughead laughs. “Thanks, man. Hey, what about Veronica? Did you talk to her tonight?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>Archie shrugs, his eyes lowered toward the comforter. “I talked to her a little. I don’t know what’s going on with us. But I like her. And I think she might like me.”</p><p>He looks up, but Jughead is passed out, practically drooling as his head lolls to the side. Archie can’t help but smile. “Good night, Jug,” he whispers.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the Jones kitchen, Gladys has continued the rant that started when Archie and Jughead first arrived thirty minutes earlier, bruised and bloody and with alcohol on their breath. Jughead had never come home so much as twenty minutes after curfew, and Gladys is absolutely furious. </p><p>“I want that boy out of my house,” she says, dropping her wine glass purposefully on the counter.</p><p>“Where is he supposed to go?” FP protests.</p><p>“Home! You’re his lawyer, FP, not his guardian. He has one, doesn’t he?”</p><p>FP shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” </p><p>“Well, figure it out,” Gladys responds, in that tone she sets down the law with. FP sighs as Gladys once again drains her wine glass. This time, she leaves FP alone in the kitchen to stew in his options, no room for argument.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Betty cuts Veronica off shortly after Jughead and Archie disappear down to the beach—and don’t return. She convinces Veronica to come home with her, knowing her dad has an overnight shift and that her Stepmonster is surely long passed out by now. Betty calls her dad’s car service and lets Veronica snooze with her head on Betty’s shoulder as she stares out the window and thinks.</p><p>Betty keeps running the moment over in her mind again and again: the betrayal and hurt on Jughead’s face as he stared at Archie. Could they be fighting over <em>her</em>? She dismisses it immediately; it must be some other bromancey misunderstanding she couldn’t possibly comprehend. She barely even <em>knows </em>either boy. But putting all of that aside, what she’s really stuck on is the unmistakable flash of anger and jealousy on her best friend’s face, in the brief moment she’d seen Archie and Betty in that compromising position.</p><p>Once they’re safely inside, Betty falls into a familiar routine when one of them has overdone it. She helps Veronica into her bed, a queen size canopy big enough for the two of them to share on nights like this. She hurries back downstairs to fill big glasses of water, taking greedy gulps of her own as she waits for a pot of coffee to brew. </p><p>Arranging the drinks on a tray, Betty moves carefully up the stairs, a good test of her sobriety. After all, that confrontation with Archie and Jughead had certainly done wonders for snapping her out of whatever buzz she may have been previously nursing.</p><p>“Bless you, B,” Veronica says once she’s maneuvered their beverages successfully into her room, and they’ve both taken grateful, sobering sips. </p><p>“You know I’ve got you, V,” Betty says, balancing her coffee cup in her hand as she comes to join Veronica in her bed, both of them sitting up against her headboard.</p><p>“Can I tell you something I feel awful about?” Betty asks, hoping if she leverages a confession of her own, she might finally find out what’s on her best friend’s mind. Veronica often drinks when she doesn’t want to deal with something, and tonight’s performance only made Betty double down on her theory that something’s up.</p><p>“Of course, B,” Veronica says softly, looking up over her mug.</p><p>“I just...I feel awful for not really knowing who Jughead is,” Betty explains. </p><p>Veronica wrinkles her nose in confusion. “You mean my neighbor Jughead? Surely you’ve seen him when you come over.”</p><p>Betty nods, a small frown of recognition. “I mean, yes. I recognize him as someone we go to school with, but...I just feel...awful that I could go this long without even really <em>noticing </em>someone’s existence. I try to be nice to everyone, you know?”</p><p>Before Betty can expand on her thought, Veronica blurts out a confession of her own: “I think I flirted with Archie tonight!” She immediately gasps, slapping her hand over her mouth.</p><p>Betty’s eyes widen, putting her coffee cup aside on her nightstand. “You flirted with another guy? Intrigue. Does this mean...you’re gonna break up with Reggie?”</p><p>“<em>No</em>!” Veronica says. “I mean...I don’t think so. I don’t know.”</p><p>Betty can tell from the expression on Veronica’s face that the very thought scares her. It makes sense. Sometimes it feels like Veronica’s been with Reggie since...forever. The thought of them not together just feels...wrong.</p><p><em>“Very </em>interesting,” Betty says aloud. “It’s only August, and this year is already more interesting than junior year.”</p><p>Veronica moans. “But what am I supposed to do, B? I don’t want...I don’t know what I want.”</p><p>“I think you need sleep,” Betty says, taking the mug from Veronica and placing it gingerly on the nightstand to join her own. “We can deal with mundane things like boys in the morning.”</p><p>Veronica giggles, snuggling into her best friend, once again in the safety of one of their beds. It always feels to Betty like no one could possibly get to them here. It’s what she’s thinking as she falls asleep.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The morning comes too soon, and Jughead helps Archie pack up his clothes, bestows him a mix CD he’d made the night before. “This is a crash course in all things emo,” he says to Archie. “We can talk about it next time we hang out. I looked it up, and it only takes thirty-five minutes to drive from here to Chino…”</p><p>Archie smiles, accepting the CD. “Thanks a lot, Jug.”</p><p>“I’m really glad I met you,” Jughead says, averting his eyes. Sharing his emotions with other people is sort of new for him. </p><p>“I’m glad I met you too,” Archie says. “I don’t have any friends like you.”</p><p>“Me either,” Jughead says with a smile.</p><p>FP knocks on the open glass as a courtesy. “You ready to go, Archie?” he says, his voice sounding as sad as Jughead feels. </p><p>“Why does he have to go, Dad?” Jughead asks, his tone changing to anger, the same way it had over breakfast that morning, when Gladys gave a tight-lipped explanation as to why Archie had to leave. </p><p>“You heard your mother,” FP says now, a look on his face that seems to say “there’s nothing I can do.” </p><p>Jughead is furious with his mother. They’ve always had the same angry streak, when things don’t go their way.</p><p>Outside in the blinding sunshine, Jughead presses Archie into a hug. “I’ll see you soon, man,” he says, because he doesn’t want his only friend to slip through his fingers as quickly as he’d come.</p><p>“See you soon,” Archie replies sadly, before getting in the car. </p><p>Jughead walks back inside immediately, too sure he’s about to start crying to watch them drive away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica doesn’t exercise the same restraint. Archie catches her watching him leave from her driveway, and the sadness in her eyes reflects his. </p><p>He takes her in greedily, everything about her, until she’s just a speck in the distance.</p><p>He wonders what could’ve happened between them. There’s not much else that occupies his mind as he watches the houses pass, this time turning smaller and more rundown the closer they get to his home. Well, his real home. It’s weird, when he’d said all that stuff to Jughead on the beach the day before. For a minute, he’d almost let himself consider what it might be like to live with the Joneses, to have a home like this. He should’ve known he was kidding himself.</p><p>Sooner than Archie can even comprehend, they’re back to what feels like square one, parked in front of the house he’d fled just 36 hours earlier. So much has happened since he was last here. He can feel the emotional weight of it, of leaving a place he’d blown through like a whirlwind, heavy on his chest.</p><p>“I’m gonna make sure everything works out, Archie,” FP says, his voice thick with emotion too, and it comforts Archie a little.</p><p>“Thanks for everything,” Archie chokes out, grabbing his backpack and exiting the car.</p><p>FP gets out too, despite Archie’s protests, insisting on walking him to the front door. </p><p>In all of his scattered thoughts, Archie didn’t even observe the state of the place. Now it comes into focus. Outside, there are pieces of furniture scattered about and Archie gets a scared feeling in his gut before even turning the knob.</p><p>Indeed, the house where they’ve lived for the last couple years stands near-empty, all the furniture gone, just some trash left littering the floor. </p><p>FP follows him into the house, staring solemnly around the abandoned space. “Get back in the car, Archie,” he says gruffly, and Archie keeps his back turned, trying to collect himself as tears pinprick his eyes. </p><p>He hates Brittany most days. Ask any of his friends. But it doesn’t make that abandoned feeling hurt any less.</p><p>Wordlessly, Archie follows FP out of the house, closing the door gently behind them, and climbs into the car. FP starts the engine without any further discussion, leaving Archie to lean against the window.</p><p>He feels a strange combination of emotions, the hurt mixing with a weird excitement not to be left alone in that house filled with so many terrible memories. </p><p>This feels like a chance. To get to hang out with Jughead.</p><p>And to see Veronica Lodge again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. there's always another party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>because we’re not slow burning any of the friendships: the core four becomes the core four</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! And we’re back! I really hope y’all enjoy this second chapter, and thanks for all the wonderful feedback on the first one! i promise i'll get to responding to all of your absolutely lovely comments soon, it's on the to-do list :)</p><p>A quick warning for my buggies, Betty makes out with Trev Brown in this chapter. It’s very brief and not-serious and will not happen again but wanted to give a heads up.</p><p>Thanks for reading; comments keep me going!</p><p>All the love, </p><p>Maria</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><p>recommended listening: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/5m5Blw275J9Q0xrH8jOexW">music from the o.c. mix 1</a></p><p><br/>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Ain't it a shame</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That all the world can't enjoy your mad traditions</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ain't it a shame that all the world</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don't got keys to their own ignitions</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Life is the longest death in California</em>
</p><p>-rufus wainwright, 2001</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>By the time FP and Archie return to Newport, Jughead is just emerging from his room in search of sustenance.  </p><p>And so, still in a daze from the image of his abandoned house and the whiplash of turning around to return to Newport Beach, Archie comes to sit at the Jones dining table next to an equally-disheveled, bruised, and bandaged Jughead. He slumps over in his seat, some sort of Orange County teenage zombie.  </p><p>Archie raises his eyebrows when he hears raised voices from the kitchen—apparently Gladys is awake too, though he hasn’t yet spotted her. </p><p>“Is this what being hungover feels like?” Jughead whispers to Archie, who raises his eyebrows, unsure how to answer without further incriminating himself. </p><p>“I love that you need to ask that question,” FP says, sweeping into the room with a basket of bagels and the trusty Jones family bagel slicer. Archie hadn’t realized the voices had stopped. “I hope bagels will soak up whatever it is you two drank last night.”</p><p>Jughead shakes his head, whining, “You hear like a bat, Dad.”</p><p>Archie tries to hide his smirk; it’s so odd to hear parents this angry at their kid for the simple indiscretion of sneaking a couple beers. Jughead truly lives a charmed life. </p><p>“I think we’re gonna be recovering from these bruises for a little longer,” Archie offers, waiting for Jughead to finish with the cream cheese.</p><p>FP chuckles, settling down at his seat and folding over his newspaper.<em> The New York Times</em>, of course. Once a New Yorker, always a New Yorker, it seems.</p><p>Gladys is the last to enter the dining room, the cordless phone to her ear as she barks instructions to whoever’s on the other end. </p><p>Archie gives Jughead a questioning look and he mouths: “Work.”</p><p>“Ah,” Archie says quietly, accepting the carton of cream cheese from Jughead. Maybe the phone call interrupted whatever fight Gladys and FP had been having, Archie thinks to himself. </p><p>“Sorry about that, boys,” Gladys says when she hangs up, joining the rest of them at the table. “How did everyone sleep last night?” Her gaze lands on Archie for the time it takes him to nod and say, “Really good, thanks,” before she returns her attention to FP in what seems to be a heavily-coded message.</p><p>FP sighs. “Okay, now that everyone’s here, it’s probably best that we review the situation.” He pauses; a deep breath. Then: “Archie, first things first: technically Brittany Meyer is listed as your guardian alongside Frank Andrews.” Archie’s stomach drops. “So I’m gonna try to track her down.”</p><p>Gladys nods from her seat, a clearly-planned rehearsal. </p><p>“And what happens when we find her?” Archie asks. </p><p>“Well…” Gladys says. “You would go back to living with her, right?” She looks to FP for reassurance, but he averts his eyes. </p><p>Archie snorts. “Sure, okay. So what happens if we find her and she doesn’t <em>let</em> me live with her?”</p><p>There’s a silence that settles over the table, punctuated only by Jughead’s continued chewing. Gladys shoots him an irritated look, and Archie has the sudden, unspeakable urge to burst into defiant laughter.</p><p>“A foster family?” Archie asks, sighing. It’s where he’d gone for the four months between when his parents died and when the state could finally track his Uncle Frank down, and he has no desire to go back. In fact, his fingers curl into tight fists at the thought.</p><p>Gladys looks down at her plate as FP says, “We’ll see. You can stay here until we figure it out though, I promise.”</p><p>Jughead rolls his eyes. “Am I the only one who sees the insanity here? Archie needs a place to live, and we have like, an entire pool house sitting there empty the majority of the year.”</p><p>Gladys continues to look extremely interested in the design on the rim of her plate as FP sighs and says, “Jughead, enough. Nothing can be decided until we track down Brittany.”</p><p>Archie nods, swallowing a retort and taking another ravenous bite out of his bagel instead.</p><p>“Now, what does everyone have on the docket for today?” FP says before Jughead can get another jab in, looking around at everyone.</p><p>Gladys takes the topic change in stride, finally looking up from the kitchenware to respond. “I have quite a busy day.” She turns to Archie in explanation, “I work in real estate. I’m working on a model home for a new development right now.” </p><p>“Can you build me one?” Archie asks, and Gladys blanches. “Sorry, bad joke.”</p><p>Archie can tell that both FP and Jughead stifle laughs as Gladys plows on, “Anyway, construction is stalled on the model home, and I need to get on top of it today or my dad’s gonna be...well, you guys know how he gets.”</p><p>“Right,” Archie says, actually half-interested. He’d worked construction with Fangs the last two summers. </p><p>“Grandpa is a man of few words, most of them mean,” Jughead quips by explanation, shooting Archie an eye roll for extra emphasis. </p><p>“Well, you all know what my day will look like,” FP says. “What are you boys gonna get up to? Go back out on the water with the...<em>Nancy Drew, </em>is it?”</p><p>Jughead’s face reddens. “Maybe,” he says, glancing at Archie, who shrugs. And then, in a sarcastic tone that hearkens back to the earlier conversation: “We’ll see.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jughead’s dreams had been filled with Betty Cooper—not completely unfamiliar content, but these had been different. It was as if the-once blank pages of a coloring book had been filled in and shaded by his recent interaction, his brain now in possession of a recent memory of Betty’s concerned green eyes fixed on him.</p><p>So, after a...<em>lengthy</em> shower, Jughead runs a comb through his hair and throws on a Bright Eyes t-shirt. He takes the stairs two at a time, wondering what Archie’s been up to since breakfast. Maybe they can take the <em>Nancy Drew </em>out, strategize about how Jughead can ask out his real Nancy Drew or something. </p><p>He exits the living room onto the patio, stopping to take in the balmy late morning sunshine. On second thought, perhaps a dip in the pool is exactly what the doctor ordered. He smiles, realizing he and Archie have yet to splash around in the pool since he arrived two days earlier. Without further ado, Jughead crosses the yard toward the pool house, giving a single courtesy knock before sliding the door open.</p><p>“Here I am,” Jughead says dramatically as he enters, brow furrowing in confusion when Archie’s sarcastic voice doesn’t immediately respond. </p><p>Jughead walks farther into the pool house, spotting Archie crouched over next to the bed. When he lifts his gaze to meet Jughead’s, it’s clear why. He’s stuffing his backpack full of clothes and various bottles of hygienic products from the guest bathroom. Jughead’s stomach sinks. <em>Not again.</em> But still, maybe he’s overreacting. </p><p>“Where do you think you’re going?” Jughead says, at first in a joking tone, and then, when he sees the flash of guilt on Archie’s face, more solemnly: “Are you really running away?”</p><p>“I have to go,” Archie says, finally locking eyes with his friend in a silent bid for understanding. To let him do this. “I can’t go to foster care again.” </p><p>Jughead frowns. “Again?”</p><p>“My...after my parents died, I had to go to foster care because they couldn’t find my uncle for...awhile.” He shudders, and Jughead figures it’s not something he should prod at. </p><p>“I’m sorry, man,” Jughead says. “But what are you gonna do? Where are you gonna go?”</p><p>Archie shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.” </p><p>Jughead shakes his head. “Come on, Arch. That doesn’t sound like much of a plan. At least let me help you think of a real getaway plan before you just take off recklessly and get yourself arrested again.”</p><p>A hint of a smile tugs at Archie’s lips, and Jughead counts it as a little victory. </p><p>“That’s not...the worst point,” Archie replies, shifting from foot to foot. He relaxes his grip from the backpack. </p><p>Seeing his opportunity, Jughead goes in for the kill. He wasn’t lying; he’s afraid the criminal justice system will grab his friend back into its clutches if they aren’t too careful about their next moves. If there’s anything he’s learned as the son of a public defender, it’s that the system doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s feelings unless you’re rich and white. </p><p>“You know where I do my best thinking, Archie?” </p><p>Archie stifles a laugh. “I really cannot imagine. Where, Jughead?”</p><p>Jughead jerks his head toward the pool. “On a pool float.”</p><p>Archie laughs. “I really can’t argue with that.”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Shrieks fill the air as Jughead and Archie cannonball straight into the pool. The cool water is exactly the relief Jughead needed for this scorching California day. He swears he was born on the wrong coast. He’s never felt built for this heat, though he knows it as well as the beach where he was raised.</p><p>They paddle across the pool, occasionally splashing at one another before finally settling on the aforementioned well-loved pool floats, striped blue and white. </p><p>“What we need to do,” Jughead argues. “Is find somewhere to hide you. Buy ourselves some time.”</p><p>Archie nods. “That makes sense. But where?”</p><p>They both think for a minute, the only sound the slight splash as the water hits the side of the pool. Archie looks out onto the horizon, to the point where the water seems to disappear into the hillside. </p><p>His eyes still focused on the particulars of the infinity pool, Archie suggests, “Do you guys have some sort of secret attic?” </p><p>Jughead laughs. “Not that I know of.” </p><p>“A basement? Servant’s quarters?” Archie suggests, his tone lighter now, and they both laugh. </p><p>“Nah,” Jughead says, paddling a little closer to Archie. </p><p>“You guys don’t have one of those luxurious beach houses either, huh?”</p><p>Jughead shakes his head, though something in Archie’s tone reminds him of breakfast. Of Archie’s “bad joke.”</p><p>“Oh my <em>God</em>,” Jughead says. He paddles himself into a 180-degree turn to face Archie again, who watches the process amusedly. </p><p>“Yes, Jug?”</p><p>“I have a brilliant idea! Let’s hide you in my mom’s model home!”</p><p>Archie looks surprised, but intrigued by the idea, seemingly turning it around in his brain. “Won’t the construction crew notice me?”</p><p>“Not if we bring you there after dark!” Jughead insists. “I know exactly where it is. With your bike and my skateboard…”</p><p>“We just have to sneak out,” Archie finishes. </p><p>Jughead nods. “What do you think?”</p><p>“I think it’s the only plan we have.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jughead says. “So, we put together a bag of stuff, right? All your clothes, some books and entertainment. I have plenty of comic books you can bring with you. We can put together a starter pack of sorts. Maybe grab some snacks along the way?” Jughead can feel that he’s rambling, but it’s sort of his natural instinct when he’s faced with helping someone he cares about. When he found out his mom needed knee surgery five years ago, he tried to make her pancakes and almost set the house on fire. </p><p>Archie laughs. “That actually sounds like a great plan,” he says. “Thanks for donating some comic books to the cause.”</p><p>Jughead laughs. “‘Donate’ is an interesting choice of words, I’d probably use ‘borrow….’” He stops when he realizes Archie is laughing at him. “You were joking?”</p><p>“I was joking,” Archie confirms, still a little glint in his eye.</p><p>“Well, now we have a plan. A post-dinner mission, if you will.”</p><p>“I won’t.” </p><p>“Now, how about a game of Marco Polo to soothe the nerves?” </p><p>(That one earns Jughead a big splash, and he can’t really blame Archie.)</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>One hand on the gas nozzle and the other shielding the sun out of his eyes, FP stands next to his car and worries.</p><p>Fixing a problem usually calms his nerves, but this current dilemma is one of the most complicated he’s ever faced, one he’s not sure how to fix. He knows what he should do—what <em>Gladys</em> wants him to do—is to track down this Brittany character and try to make her see reason. But FP had seen the look on Archie’s face when he discovered his now-empty home, had practically watched the kid’s heart break before his eyes. It was not the look of someone who wanted Brittany to be found. </p><p>And ever since he heard the way Jughead and Archie laughed and joked together, down by the beach that first full day, FP couldn’t stop thinking about making Archie’s stay in the pool house permanent. Gladys thinks he’s half-crazy, but maybe she hasn’t observed what he has. The way Jughead and Archie act like brothers, so quickly and without question. </p><p>As he gets back into the car a couple minutes later, FP can’t help but glance at the manila folder sitting on the passenger seat. Inside, he knows, are the papers he needs. The ones that would allow him to adopt Archie. </p><p>FP groans loudly, and, remembering the task at hand, pulls back out of the gas station lot and onto the California roads, hoping that he’ll find Brittany Meyer on one of them.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Back at the Jones house, Gladys sits in her study, peering at her computer. Sierra McCoy—who Gladys privately refers to as the Queen of All Newpsies—had sent over the budget for the annual charity casino night, already only a couple days away. “I need a second pair of eyes on this,” she’d said, signing off with a crisp “sincerely.” </p><p>Gladys realizes she’s been staring at the same line item for a good five minutes and pushes back from the desk. </p><p>She just can’t stop thinking about the sadness and defeat in Archie’s shoulders when Archie and FP had returned to the house, explaining what had happened. A guilt had pierced her chest, at the home he didn’t have to go back to. But did that mean that it was up to Gladys and FP to provide that home? Isn’t that up to, if anyone, the state? And yet, based on the tense conversation she’d shared with FP in their room before he left this morning, that was exactly what FP wanted to do. He hadn’t gone as far as to say the word “adopt” but Gladys knew he was circling it, using milder terms in an attempt to warm her up to the idea. </p><p>But then there’s the other image that won’t leave her mind: the one of her son, her baby boy, who hasn’t so much as played a half of a sports game, returning home bloody and bruised and with the smell of beer on his clothes. Gladys wonders how far FP’s gotten, if he’s found Brittany yet. She’s clearly more unsure than her husband is about what to do once FP has found her—and the prospect makes her unsure whether she even wants Brittany to be found.</p><p>Gladys is startled by the sound of the sliding glass door opening and closing, and she spots Jughead approaching down the hallway, wearing only his swimsuit. </p><p>“Jug!” she says, sticking her head toward the doorway, hoping to mend fences from earlier, but he shoots her a venomous glare.</p><p>“What?” he barks, stopping outside her study, arms crossed over his chest. </p><p>“Don’t use that tone with me, Jug,” Gladys says, her face flaming. Usually, Gladys and FP have a fairly pleasant relationship with their son, one that the other Newspie women always seem jealous of, prone to slamming doors and screaming matches from their teenage sons and daughters. Ever since Archie Andrews showed up, Gladys is finally starting to understand the usual complaints they start to dish out after a couple daiquiris. </p><p>Jughead rolls his eyes and continues, his voice passionate and angry, “Really? You get to ruin Archie’s life and I have to keep my tone polite while I object to it?”</p><p>“<em>Jughead</em>,” Gladys says. She can feel the tension building behind her eyes, in her forehead. “I’m the adult here, okay? I’m just trying to look out for you.”</p><p>But apparently that was the wrong thing to say. </p><p>Jughead scoffs, his eyes only glittering more sharply with anger. “Wow, so I guess you have to be born in the correct zip code to be ‘looked out for,’ huh, Mom?” Jughead starts down the hall before she can retort, calling over his shoulder, “I fucking <em>hate</em> Newport, Mom. I hate it here!” </p><p>His bedroom door slams, and the sound of emo music blasts down the hall a moment later.</p><p>
Gladys sighs, staring at the blurring cells of Excel data and, finally, burying her head in her hands.
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>FP isn’t home for dinner, so Archie is treated instead to a tense meal of Thai take-out with Gladys and Jughead, filled with long, awkward silences and one-word sentences. (Jughead later explains that he’s never seen his mother cook a day in her life, but she can call in a pick-up order with the best of ‘em.)  </p><p>When Gladys retires to her study, making a vague excuse about her heavy workload, Archie lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.</p><p>“Well, that was an easier-than-expected out,” Jughead says with a chuckle, the two of them getting up from the table and scraping their plates over the garbage. “You know what this means, don’t you, Archie?”</p><p>Archie starts to say, “Guess we can sneak off to the model home…” but is cut off by Jughead’s much more outlandish, “Time to initiate step 1 of Operation Homestead.”</p><p>“‘<em>Operation Homestead</em>?’” Archie scoffs. “What is that? Why does it need a name?”</p><p>“Because it’s a secret mission,” Jughead replies, as if it’s obvious.</p><p>They stop outside on the patio, Archie shaking his head, laughing. “In order for this to work, you’re gonna have to be subtle, you know. Are you capable of that?”</p><p>“Of course I am! I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, Archie, but I’m super stealthy,” he says. “I mean, half the people I go to school with don’t even know my name. What is that if not stealth?” Jughead continues his rant, hands waving wildly as he waits for Archie to unchain his bike; Jughead, of course, already has his trusty skateboard at his feet.</p><p>“Okay, I can’t exactly argue with you on that one,” Archie says, rolling his bike down the driveway. </p><p>Jughead rolls his skateboard ahead of him, making like he’s gonna jump on it and show off some elaborate trick.</p><p>
But then they see her. </p><p>It’s Veronica. Standing at the end of her driveway, like some sort of cheesy flashback to the moment Archie first spotted her two days earlier.</p><p>“If it isn’t the Vixen herself,” Jughead narrates under his breath, earning another of those “be cool” looks that Archie is realizing he’ll be doling out on a regular basis while hanging out with Jughead. </p><p>
Veronica looks gorgeous as ever in a floral dress, holding a wrapped present in her arms and her cell phone to her ear. As they reach the end of the driveway, Archie can hear Veronica say into the flip phone: “Okay, be there soon.” There’s a chuckle then a quick “I love you too, B” and then she’s looking up and locking eyes with Archie, and he’s gone all over again.</p><p>“Archie,” she says and <em>is he imagining the breathlessness in her voice</em>? “You’re still here? I didn’t think I’d see you again.” </p><p>Archie can’t help but feel excited, a little flicker of hope that Veronica might see something in him.</p><p>“Another party?” Archie asks, tilting his head toward the elaborately-wrapped box in her hands.</p><p>“There’s always another party,” Jughead mutters under his breath. </p><p>Veronica’s gaze swipes down to the gift, as if she’d forgotten she was holding it. “Oh, yeah. I’m on my way to Betty’s birthday party.” </p><p>“Betty’s birthday’s not till Wednesday,” Jughead says, so fast and firm that Archie has to stifle a snort at the weird look Veronica shoots him.</p><p>“I mean...that’s what I heard,” Jughead adds quickly, his fingers fidgeting with his beanie. </p><p>“What are you guys doing?” Veronica asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. </p><p>Archie shrugs. “Trying to figure out how to keep me from having to go back to foster care.” </p><p>Veronica’s face softens. “Oh,” she says. “Well...how?”</p><p>“Uh...our most recent idea was having Archie stay in one of my mom’s model homes,” Jughead admits. </p><p>Veronica shoots them an incredulous look. “We’re three smart young minds, we can certainly do better than what legally constitutes trespassing.” </p><p>Jughead and Archie both stare at her, impressed.</p><p>“What?” Veronica says, flipping her hair. “I want to be a lawyer one day.”</p><p>“Well, what’s your idea then?” Jughead challenges, hands on his hips. Archie stifles another laugh; it’s pretty funny watching Veronica and Jughead spar.</p><p>Veronica shrugs. “I’m not sure. But I do know a fourth smart young mind whose birthday it is. Get in the car.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica invites them into her car so quickly, she barely realizes she’s doing it until her hands are clutching the wheel and Archie’s seatbelt is clicking into place. Jughead is the last to load his skateboard into the trunk, climbing into the backseat with a sarcastic, “If you put on Kelly Clarkson, I’m flinging myself onto the freeway.”</p><p>Veronica’s face flames, remembering the nights she and Betty stayed up watching that first season of <em>American Idol</em>, dialing on the cordless phone to vote for their favorite. (Betty had been partial to Kelly Clarkson, Veronica to Justin Guarani and his irresistible head of hair.) Still, she doesn’t want to tell Jughead that. She barely knows him, beyond the familiarity that comes with the weird fact that Newport Beach natives Hiram and Gladys had dated back in high school.</p><p>“I don’t listen to Kelly Clarkson, Jughead,” Veronica says, starting the car and pulling out of the cul-de-sac. “What do you want to hear, Archie?”</p><p>Archie shrugs. “I don’t know. I listen to...everything, I guess. The radio, you know.”</p><p>Veronica nods, a tight-lipped smile on her face. “How about you?” Archie asks, and Veronica can feel his gaze on her face even as she pays attention to the road.</p><p>“Lately I’ve been on a punk kick,” Veronica responds. It’s the truth. Ever since the first day those FBI agents showed up at her door, she’s found it a lot easier to drown out all the noise.</p><p>“Avril Lavigne doesn’t count as punk, Veronica,” Jughead snarks from the backseat, and something in his tone makes Veronica snap. </p><p>“What about the Cramps? Sex Pistols?” Veronica asks, enunciating each word, so there’s no way Jughead can be mistaken. </p><p>It has the intended effect. </p><p>“I listen to the same music as Veronica Lodge?” Jughead says mournfully.</p><p>Veronica laughs. “Crazier things have happened,” she says, reaching over and popping in one of her mixtapes. </p><p>Aside from the Replacements song blaring from the stereo, the car falls relatively quiet, and Veronica can’t help but feel antsy. She can feel Archie’s gaze on her, like he’s incapable of looking away, and it makes her nervous. </p><p>Veronica spots the drive-thru on her left, and again, without even thinking, she turns into the lot. “I’m craving a milkshake,” she says absently. As she rolls up to the menu, she hears Jughead cheer in the backseat.</p><p>The speaker crackles. “Welcome to Newport Burger, what can I get you?”</p><p>“Hi!” Veronica yells. Usually, she comes here with Betty when they’re drunk, pigging out in the way they were raised not to. It always makes them feel rebellious. “I’ll get a chocolate milkshake, a side of fries, a side of onion rings, and…hold on one sec…” Veronica turns toward Archie and Jughead. “You two want anything?”</p><p>“I never pass on food,” Jughead says resolutely. “Get me a #2 with extra cheese and a side of onion rings? Oh, and a chocolate milkshake.”</p><p>Veronica’s expression softens. “Great minds,” she says, shooting Jughead a small smile. She turns to the passenger seat. “How about you, Archie?”</p><p>He shakes his head, gulping. “I’m good, thanks.”</p><p>Veronica nods, repeating Jughead’s order into the mic. “First window,” the underpaid drive-thru worker crackles back, and Veronica rolls forward.</p><p>“Hope you guys don’t mind this pit stop,” Veronica says as they wait behind a Mercedes. </p><p>“I truly never complain about food,” Jughead says loudly from the backseat, but it’s Archie’s reaction Veronica really cares about. And the only one she can’t parse from the indecipherable expression on his face.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Veronica drives them to the same lot where she and Betty always park to eat their secret Newport Burger (before spraying themselves with the perfume Betty keeps in her purse, to make sure the scent doesn’t cling to their clothes when they head home to their Newpsie parents.)</p><p>She passes Jughead his food back, laughing at his groan of excitement, and pops a fry into her mouth.</p><p>“So,” Veronica says. “What exactly<em> is</em> the situation I found you two in tonight?”</p><p>“Operation Homestead!” Jughead yells, and Veronica giggles when Archie literally face palms in response to the cheesy code name.</p><p>“What is ‘Operation Homestead?’” Veronica asks, looking directly at Archie. He’s the one who needs a place to live, after all.</p><p>“We’re...we were gonna try to buy some time,” Archie explains. He sounds nervous. “So we were gonna ride out to Jughead’s mom’s new development, grab some snacks along the way, and hope I can stay there without being caught until we figure out...a more permanent solution.”</p><p>“Don’t forget about the starter pack of comic books!” Jughead chimes in from the back seat, and Veronica laughs.</p><p>“So, again, it’s confirmed that I rescued you two before you made a horrible mistake. I mean, is there even electricity set up there yet?” They both stare back at her blankly, Jughead loudly munching on his onion rings. “Running water? A working toilet?”</p><p>“Well, I figured he could always go, you know...in the back?” Jughead says and Archie wrinkles his nose at the same time Veronica says “gross.”</p><p>“Gotta do what you gotta do when you’re on the run, though,” Archie says.</p><p>“‘On the run?’” Veronica asks, alarmed. “Who are you on the run from?”</p><p>“Well, I’m not on the run yet, technically,” Archie says. “But if I don’t get out of here soon, the Joneses are gonna hand me over to child protective services, and before you know it, I’m gonna be fighting for my life in some group home.”</p><p>Archie’s words feel like an ice bucket being poured over her head. Never in her seventeen years of existence has Veronica been forced to confront something so...unfair. </p><p>“Where’s...your parents?” Veronica asks dumbly, her face flushing after she said it.</p><p>“They passed away,” Archie says, his voice only slightly awkward. “It was a long time ago.”</p><p>“I’m really sorry, regardless,” Veronica says, thinking of holding Betty close at her mom’s funeral, at how Betty was never quite the same after they buried Alice. “Betty...has some experience with that.”</p><p>Jughead’s ears seem to perk up at Betty’s name, though his face is still stuffed with food. Archie nods, seeming unsure how to respond. So he just keeps telling the story. “Well, anyway...I was living with my uncle and his wife. And my uncle’s the one who stole that car. I got caught with him, and Jughead’s dad got me out but his wife, Brittany, she kicked me out. That’s why I ended up here in the first place.”</p><p>“Wow,” Veronica says. </p><p>“We tried to head back there yesterday, but she was gone,” Archie explains, and the sound of Jughead slurping up the last frozen bits of chocolate from the bottom of his milkshake reverberates through the car. It would almost be funny, were the subject matter of their conversation not what it was. </p><p>“I’m so sorry, Archie,” Veronica says. “You deserve better than that. Isn’t there any way you can…”</p><p>“Stay?” Jughead finishes, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I tried to suggest that. My mom said no. I think…” Archie turns around to look at his friend, and it looks to Veronica like they’re having the kind of silent conversation she’s had a million times with Betty. “...I think FP wants Archie to stay. But my mom...you know, she always gets the final word in my house.”</p><p>Jughead appears pained, shoots Archie a sympathetic look, as if to say “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“We can figure this out,” Veronica says. “I bet Betty will have ideas.”</p><p>Jughead grins. “Really?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Veronica says. “You know how she is with <em>the Blue and Gold</em>, so persistent…” she trails off at the sound of her cell phone ringing. “Excuse me a minute.”</p><p>She fishes around for it, Archie eventually being the one to grab it from the dashboard and hand it to her. Veronica’s face flushes: Reggie’s name is staring back at her.</p><p>She quickly puts the phone to her ear. “Hi!” Veronica winces at how fake and high-pitched her voice sounds.</p><p>On the other end, Veronica can hear the cheers and chatter and bass of Betty’s party, and a part of her suddenly feels clenched with guilt. It’s Betty’s birthday, and she’s sitting in a car half a mile away eating French fries with a guy who’s decidedly not her boyfriend.<em> What’s wrong with me?</em></p><p>“Veronica!” a very drunk Reggie yells. “Where are you?”</p><p>“Where are you, Veronica?” she hears a chorus of voices yell, identifying at the very least Chuck and Josie and Midge. </p><p>“I’m on my way,” Veronica says, trying to maintain a straight face as Jughead and Archie exchange looks over her shoulder. </p><p>“You’re never late!” Reggie yells. “Why are you late?”</p><p>“We have margs, Veronica!” bellows Moose, like he’s standing over Reggie’s shoulder screaming into the mic, and Veronica has to hold the phone away from her ear for a second. She figures Jughead and Archie could hear that one, as they’re now trying futilely not to audibly laugh.</p><p>“That sounds fun, Moose,” Veronica says. “Is Betty having fun?”</p><p>And that’s when she hears her best friend’s voice. “Veronica! Veronica, is that Veronica?” There’s a shuffle as the phone passes to Betty. “Where <em>are </em>you?” Betty whines into the phone.</p><p>“How are you doing, B?” Veronica asks, her voice softening. She glances in the backseat toward Jughead, who is now watching her intently. <em>Knew it.</em></p><p>“I’m drunk,” Betty responds blankly, and Veronica laughs.</p><p>“You’re 18, that’s what you deserve,” Veronica says. “I’ll be there soon to drink margs with you.”</p><p>“Good! I need you!” Betty whines, and she can hear Moose yelling to her, and the phone shuffling again. </p><p>“Get here soon, baby,” Reggie says, clearly having regained access to his phone. He moves away from the crowd, and Veronica can picture exactly where he is, creeping down the hall toward the Mason kitchen. “I miss you.”</p><p>Veronica gulps, shooting Archie a sidelong glance as she replies, “I’ll be there soon. Let me hang up so I can drive, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Reggie says in a drunken whine. “I love you.”</p><p>Veronica’s heart practically stops. She knows she’s been flirting with Archie: lowering her voice, glancing at him for far too long. The guilt rushes through her once again. “I love you too,” she replies, trying her best not to choke on the words.</p><p>Veronica can feel Archie and Jughead’s eyes on her as she hangs up and returns the cell phone to its spot on the dashboard, and before she can process how good it feels for Archie to be staring at her like that—almost possessively, like he’s jealous—Archie asks the question that shatters everything.</p><p>“How long have you two been dating then?”</p><p>Veronica gulps. </p><p>“Uh...I don’t know actually.”</p><p>“I know.” Jughead pipes up. “In the fifth grade, you guys got your <em>mack on</em> at the back of the bus on the way to the Museum of Tolerance.” He affects a mocking tone as he adds, “Classy lady.”</p><p>“What’s your problem, Jones? What did I ever do to you?” Veronica asks, her face flushing. She does remember that trip, has maybe always sort of seen it as a notch in the sketchy timeline that is her relationship with Reggie Mantle. But to have someone else who she barely knows throw it back at her feels like some sort of accusation, like even Jughead can see how fragile the walls holding up her apparent great love actually are.</p><p>“I don’t know, Veronica,” Jughead snarls back, his voice just as hurt and venomous. “You’ve lived next door to me all my life and you’ve never done <em>anything</em> to me.”</p><p>“You’re the one who never talks to any of us!” Veronica replies. It’s true, after all. She’s always found him rather snobby, in their brief family friend-like acquaintanceship due to their parents’ history and enduring friendship. “You think you’re so much better than everyone.”</p><p>“I…” Jughead sputters. “I don’t think...I’m better than anyone.” </p><p>Veronica glances at the dashboard, furrowing her brow at how late it’s gotten. She turns back to the boys, glaring at Jughead, “Well then, prove it. Come to Betty’s birthday party with me now. I’m late, too late to drive you guys home.”</p><p>Jughead gulps. “You’re...inviting me to Betty’s birthday party?”</p><p>Veronica’s amused, observing the spots of pink that appear on his cheeks, and confirms that she’s spotted an apparent weakness for her best friend. She a) can’t blame him and b) pockets that information away for later. </p><p>“We’ll come,” Archie says, an apologetic look on his face that has Veronica stifling a laugh. Only a few days in and these two already act like brothers, like they’re speaking in some sort of silent code. </p><p>“To the Mason beach house we go!” Veronica declares, munching on a final French fry before starting the car again and pulling back onto the road.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Where’s Veronica?” Betty asks between sips of an incredibly tasty margarita Moose had made her. (“Your birthday gift, my lady,” he’d said, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek that reminded Betty of how unpleasant the one drunken make-out they’d shared two years ago was. “Thanks, see you later!” she’d said, making a quick beeline for Melody and Josie.)</p><p>“She’s always late,” Josie says, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of beer. “That birthday marg looks tasty, Betty.”</p><p>“Mmm, it is,” Betty says, looking around distractedly, hoping to see a flash of raven hair. She feels unsettled, unmoored without her friend in close proximity. </p><p>Especially when she’s this drunk. </p><p>Betty had figured that her eighteenth birthday called for getting absolutely wasted. Letting her hair down one last time before senior year and college applications came knocking with their seriousness and discipline and promises of a future she can’t yet picture. </p><p>And so, as she walks away from Josie and Melody in a drunken search for Veronica, she doesn’t initially object when she instead finds a water polo player named Trev. He’s one of the smarter ones, the kind of acquaintance she’d exchange an amused look with when the AP Gov teacher said something embarrassing. </p><p>“If it isn’t the birthday girl!” Trev says, grabbing her discarded plastic birthday crown off the drinks table and placing it flirtatiously on her head.</p><p>She giggles, moving closer to him on instinct. The combined powers of alcohol and heels have her stumbling, and like so many boys over the years, Trev’s arms just happen to be strategically well-placed to catch her.</p><p>There’s nothing romantic about it. He just pulls her into his lap, and she just goes with it.</p><p>They make out in one of those drunken frenzies that’s so typical and sloppy and unimaginative that Betty doubts she’ll remember it a month from now. It’s when this very thought pops into Betty’s sloshed brain that she pulls back, pushing Trev off her more roughly than she’d intended. </p><p>“No thank you,” she says, standing up as an extra wave of drunkenness hits her. </p><p>Confused, Trev tries to steady her on her feet but she refuses his help. “It’s my birthday and I don’t want to make out anymore!” Betty declares. A couple people close to her who she can’t name—underclassmen, probably—snicker nearby. “I just want Veronica,” she whines. </p><p>If Trev is saying anything to her, she’s tuned it out, looking around the party once more in hopes she’ll catch a glimpse of her best friend. </p><p>“Oh, God, I need the bathroom,” she realizes, adjusting her crown on her head before hurrying in the direction of the grandiose staircase that Betty knows will take her to the bedrooms and with them, at least one en-suite bathroom. Hopefully no drunken couple has beaten her to one of her favorite party house hiding spots.</p><p>In one of the guest bathrooms, Betty pulls the door closed and locks it for good measure. She sits on the toilet, grateful when the room stops spinning for long enough to gather her thoughts as she pees. </p><p>Another simple thought comes to her, in a question: <em>Did I want to make out with Trev? </em></p><p>If she really thinks about it, Betty has always found it easier to just go with it when a boy makes a move. She doesn’t want to be rude, or feel like she’s leading someone on. According to The Harbor School gossip mill, there’s nothing worse you could be considered then a tease. And Betty hates how much she cares what other people think of her, but she does. </p><p>As she gets up to wash her hands, Betty sees her lipstick is smudged, an unsightly red blotch forming on her upper lip. She grabs a tissue and a Q-tip from the little ceramic containers on the sink, and takes her time fixing her make-up, staring at her reflection in the mirror.</p><p>
  <em>I’m eighteen. Well, almost.</em>
</p><p>Technically, she has a couple more days until she officially turns the big 1-8, but this was when Moose could get away with throwing a party at his beach house, so they’d settled for an early celebration. </p><p>
  <em>I’m eighteen, and I don’t think I want meaningless hook-ups anymore.</em>
</p><p>The thought feels daring, but almost relieving to put into words. She wonders what Polly would think. Probably a “boo” and “you’re only young once, bitch!” Betty shakes her head, expelling that voice from her head. <em>I’m </em>not<em> Polly.</em></p><p>Betty turns to the mirror and says out loud the one she’s most afraid of: “I’m eighteen, and I don’t know if I like who I am.”</p><p>She feels a single tear roll down her cheek, and wipes it away before it ruins her mascara. She takes a deep, cleansing breath in, and hopes beyond hope that Veronica will appear when she returns to the party.</p><p>But back downstairs, Betty only finds Moose, Melody, and Josie, waving her over to take another birthday shot. Apparently Moose pilfered some top shelf shit for her birthday, and from the way he’s ogling her, Betty wonders if he expects something more. Something she’s not planning on giving anyone. </p><p>Shrugging, and figuring she’s only 18 once—<em>where the</em> hell <em>is Veronica, seriously?</em>—she joins her friends and thinks, <em>bottoms up.</em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jughead’s palms are clammy, and he’s pretty sure he’s fixed his hair ten times since Veronica started driving them toward Betty’s party. Which was apparently happening at the Mason beach house. He tries to distract himself by listening to Archie and Veronica exchanging light conversation, though who are they kidding? Jughead could cut the tension with a knife, and that means everyone probably can. </p><p>Veronica tilts her head toward Jughead at the next stoplight and explains, “Moose’s parents are out of town this weekend and his beach house is <em>so</em> big. Like, way bigger than Josie’s.”</p><p>“Wow,” Archie says, and Jughead stifles a laugh at his friend’s feigned enthusiasm. <em>Boy’s really got it bad for Veronica Lodge.</em></p><p>“Cool,” Jughead says, trying to sound genuine but as usual, it comes off sarcastic. He frowns, staring out the window as Veronica and Archie return to their flirting.</p><p>They can hear the party before they see it, and the raucous sounds of drunk teens do nothing to quell Jughead’s worries. “We’re here!” Veronica chirps as she parks the car. </p><p>Archie laughs. “That was kinda obvious, Veronica.”</p><p>She chuckles. “It was for dramatic effect, Archie.”</p><p>Jughead raises his eyebrows. <em>Seriously</em>, who are these two kidding?</p><p>“Let’s go,” Veronica says. “We have to say ‘happy birthday’ to Betty.” Car doors slam, and Jughead isn’t entirely comfortable with the sly look Veronica gives him as she emphasizes Betty’s name. </p><p>“Here goes nothing?” Jughead whispers to Archie as their trio approaches the front door. </p><p>Archie shoots Jughead a fearful look, and then the massive front door is opening and once again, they are<em> in it.</em></p><p>“I’m here!” Veronica calls as she opens the door, and somehow Betty launches herself into Veronica’s arms a mere moment later. </p><p>A plastic birthday crown flops on her head, the plastic jewels somehow accentuating the pink of her tight-fitting party dress. Jughead gulps. As usual, Betty Cooper looks like his wildest fantasy. </p><p>“Happy birthday, B!” Veronica says into her best friend’s hair, letting Betty hold her tightly as she whines about how much she missed Veronica, how she must never be late again. “I promise, never again,” Veronica insists as Betty finally pulls back from the embrace. </p><p>In that moment, she seems to notice that Archie and Jughead are awkwardly standing behind her best friend. Jughead chances a smile, one he hopes is charming. </p><p>“Happy birthday, Betty,” he says, his stomach buzzing with anxiety. Beside him, Archie sputters out, “Yeah, happy birthday!” but Jughead can barely register it before Betty is throwing her arms around Jughead. Everything disappears except for the gentle feel of her warm body wrapped around his. He might be able to die happy now. It’s entirely possible.</p><p>He tries not to squeeze too tight, not wanting to hurt her or look like a creep. It—regrettably—doesn’t last as long as her hug with Veronica, but when she pulls back she locks eyes with Jughead, and he can see that her pupils are dilated with intoxication. “Thanks for coming,” she says, her smile fixed on Jughead for a moment longer. </p><p>“I brought Jughead and Archie,” Veronica says, rather redundantly. “You feeling good, huh, Betty?”</p><p>“Moose made margaritas!” Betty replies. “You should have one!”</p><p>Jughead is sure his face is still bright red; he can feel it flaming. He can still feel where Betty’s arms were wrapped around his torso, like she left behind some ghostly perfect imprint of her touch.</p><p>“Perfect,” Veronica says, shooting Jughead and Archie looks to follow them. “We actually have a problem we need you to help us solve. We could use your detective brain.”</p><p>“I <em>am </em>a detective,” Betty jokes, laughing at herself, as they walk down a hallway toward the kitchen. </p><p>Veronica turns back toward Archie, giving him a little shrug before returning her attention to Betty, their arms linked as they emerge into a giant kitchen. Multiple blenders of half-drunk margs sit on a counter alongside seemingly every liquor bottle known to humankind. </p><p>Betty struggles to pour a margarita for Veronica and herself, and Archie and Jughead look on, Jughead having a hard time really thinking much beyond ‘how can I get Betty Cooper to touch me again?’ </p><p>“Thanks, B,” Veronica says, clinking glasses with her best friend. They both take generous sips. </p><p>Archie takes advantage of the time to grab beers for Archie and Jug out of an open cooler, placing the lukewarm blue can in Jughead’s waiting hand.</p><p>“So, B,” Veronica says, sounding a little frustrated. “We actually need some help with a problem that Archie and Jughead have. I know you like helping with stuff like that.”</p><p>Betty nods, sipping her margarita and listening, but it’s clear she’s missed half Veronica’s sentence when she replies, “I have so many problems too, Veronica.”</p><p>Veronica raises her eyebrow, shoots Jughead and Archie a look. “Ah,” Veronica says. She whispers to Archie and Jughead, “Perhaps she’s a little too far gone to be of her usual impeccable judgment.”</p><p>“Hey!” interrupts a loud booming voice from the entrance to the kitchen.</p><p>The four of them turn, and immediately lock eyes with an equally-sloshed Reggie Mantle. “Veronica, you made it!” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Archie feels like a popped balloon, and the air is deflating so fast. </p><p>He can’t stop it, can’t stop Reggie from walking over to them, an unquestionably threatening glare pointed in Archie’s direction.</p><p>“Reggie!” Veronica says, and to the untrained ear perhaps she’d sound normal, happy to see her boyfriend. But Archie can hear the slight shake, the way her eyes water almost imperceptibly with the effort it takes to stretch a smile wide across her face. </p><p>“What’s <em>Chino</em> doing here?” Reggie asks, not even greeting Veronica in return.</p><p>Jughead curls his fists beside Archie, and Archie can’t help but grab at his friend’s arm, shooting him a look that he hopes says “<em>don’t.</em>” He’d rather deescalate. He doesn’t want the water polo team—who the hell plays<em> water polo </em>anyway?—to get another chance to gang up on them.</p><p>“Reggie,” Veronica reprimands before Jughead or Archie can say anything.</p><p>“You’re <em>defending</em> these geeks?” Reggie asks, finally turning his attention to his girlfriend, who tugs at his arm. </p><p>“You don’t even know them,” Veronica says. Betty looks nervous next to her friend, her eyes wide with some combination of drunkenness and surprise. </p><p>“And you do?” Reggie scoffs. “Wait...don’t tell me you <em>arrived</em> with these jokers.”</p><p>Veronica’s face flushes, and it’s enough to answer Reggie’s question. </p><p>“What the hell, Veronica?” Reggie yells, and Betty winces, grabbing her friend’s hand as if instinctively trying to move her away. “You were late because you were with <em>them</em>?”</p><p>“Let’s drink margaritas!” Betty tries, eyes darting between Reggie and Veronica like a child watching her parents have an argument. </p><p>Veronica’s eyes widen, and she quickly gets on board. “That sounds great, B. Anything for the birthday girl!” She turns to Reggie, a soft touch on the arm and a pleading look. “Right, Reggie?”</p><p>He sighs, the internal struggle clear on his face, before following Betty and Veronica to one of the half-full blenders. A drunk Betty clumsily searches the cabinets for cups, and Jughead’s face drops when Moose approaches, placing a guiding hand at the small of Betty’s back as he shows her where they are. </p><p>Before they know it, Betty and Veronica and Reggie are completely swept up into the throng of popular people Jughead has barely ever talked to. Jughead keeps a running commentary, pointing them out like a narrator at the beginning of a teen film: there’s Josie, standing in the corner with her openly gay stepbrother Kevin and best friend Melody; the younger River Vixens, Trula and Ginger and Midge, who keep eying Reggie as he stands with Veronica; and, on the outskirts, fellow water polo players Moose and Chuck, Trev and Frankie. </p><p>Archie grabs unopened beer cans from a nearby cooler, and they both nurse them quietly. </p><p>“Hey, Archie,” Jughead says, and Archie finally turns from watching Veronica, as if startled out of a dream. </p><p>“Yeah?” He scratches the back of his head, trying to look casual. </p><p>“Did you happen to see Betty...drum roll please...<em>hug me</em> when we walked in here?”</p><p>Archie smiles, suddenly grateful for Jughead’s hopeless crush if only for a distraction from Reggie’s hands, which have now found their way onto Veronica’s shoulders as she leans back into him, sipping a margarita and laughing with Betty and the water polo players.</p><p>“I did see that,” Archie says. “She seems pretty drunk, but still. Seemed like she was happy to see you.”</p><p>“It’s a good sign, right?” Jughead says, wringing his hands obsessively, and Archie pats his friend gently on the shoulder.</p><p>“Go slow, man,” Archie advises. “Try to be her friend first, get to know her better. Whatever you know about Betty now, it’s just a fantasy. You have to get to know who she really is. And let her get to know you.”</p><p>Jughead nods, taking in Archie’s advice. “Wow,” he says. “You are so wise. Almost like an owl.”</p><p>Archie scrunches his face up in confusion at that one. Privately, Archie feels a little guilty, knowing he’s partially motivated by his own selfish reasons to keep Jughead from coming on too strong. He’s afraid Jughead will scare Betty off...and by extension, Veronica.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>“Hey, Archie?”</p><p>Archie is snapped out of his thoughts. Jughead frowns and says, “Wanna head out?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Archie says, realizing they’re truly just standing on the sidelines, having no fun anyway.</p><p>Betty is lost in conversation with Veronica and Reggie, and, painfully, neither girl has turned to look their way in a good ten minutes. </p><p>Jughead and Archie grab their skateboard and bike respectively from the back of Veronica’s car, Archie taking a moment to just stand in awe at the fact that Veronica left her car unlocked, that she can probably get away with shit like that around here. </p><p>The streets are relatively quiet save for the sound of their wheels against the pavement, and Archie feels weirdly at peace. </p><p>(It doesn’t occur to either of them to continue with the original plan and venture instead to the hills where Gladys’ new development is. They don’t discuss it, but it’s decided in an unspoken way.)</p><p>“Hey, Arch,” Jug says as they approach the boardwalk, stopping to take a drink from the water fountain.</p><p>“Yeah?” Archie stoops over the fountain, taking generous sips of cool water. It tastes less coppery here than the one he used to drink from in the public park in Chino where Frank played basketball with neighborhood guys on the weekends.</p><p>“What you said earlier, about your parents,” he says, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize that’s how you ended up with…”</p><p>“Frank and Brittany?” Archie supplies, trying not to laugh at how hard Jughead is attempting to be sensitive. </p><p>“Yeah,” Jughead says, voice softer than his usual sardonic tone.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Archie says. “But I’m glad you know now.”</p><p>Jughead nods. “How…”</p><p>“Car crash,” Archie says before he can finish, so used to answering this question by now. </p><p>“Fuck,” Jughead says, and Archie actually appreciates the honest, raw reaction. Better than some of the bullshit he’s had to endure from well-meaning folks before.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>And with that, they climb back on their respective vehicles and continue in the direction of the Jones’.</p><p>“What about your family?” Archie asks, piercing the silence once again with his curiosity. “Your dad told me he’s from Riverdale.”</p><p>“Yeah, all the way across the country where people wear long sleeves and understand sarcasm,” Jughead quips. “Basically, my dad’s a New York Jew and my mom’s a good Newport Beach Protestant woman, a WASP if you will. And they collided at the hippie paradise that is UC Berkeley. Somehow, my mom convinced my dad to move back here with her.”</p><p>“Wow,” Archie says. “Can’t imagine why anyone would want to live here?” He gestures toward a palm tree and Jughead playfully attempts to shove Archie but the maneuver only has him wiping on his skateboard. Thankfully, they’re just a couple blocks from home. </p><p><em>Home. </em>Whatever the fuck that means.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica turns from steadying a drunk, excited Betty on her feet, hoping to exchange a look with Archie and Jughead, maybe entice them to join the circle—only to realize they must’ve slinked away without her noticing. </p><p>Veronica can place the disappointment in her body: it seems to have formed a lump in her throat, one that no amount of margarita can wash down.</p><p>Despite the rough start, she rather likes hanging out with Archie and Jughead. And she thinks Betty would too. </p><p>“Veronica!” Betty shrieks, pulling Veronica’s arm toward the living room. “Josie’s putting on the Spice Girls, we have to do our routine!”</p><p>“The one we made up when we were ten?” Veronica asks with a groan, though it’s mostly a performance, a skit they pull out on special occasions. </p><p>The dance is special to them both, and so she momentarily forgets about her red-headed crush and disappears into a synchronized childhood dance with her best friend, still timed perfectly with one another.</p><p>Betty is the one person in Veronica’s life with whom she’s always been perfectly timed.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Archie wakes to a rapping at the door. He sighs, rubbing his eyes and staring blearily into the sun-soaked room. A head of long dark hair finally comes into focus. <em>Ah</em>. It’s Gladys, the member of the Jones family who seems to like him least.</p><p>“Come in!” he calls, bracing himself as the sliding glass door swishes open.</p><p>“Good morning,” Gladys says in that voice that always sounds like it’s <em>trying</em> to be warm but got lost somewhere along the way.</p><p>“Morning,” Archie says, attempting to stifle a yawn. “What’s up, Mrs. Jones?”</p><p>“Are you free this morning?” she asks, and Archie almost laughs. What could possibly be on his schedule? He’s waiting to be shipped off to best case scenario his stepmom who abandoned him or worst case scenario a group home. </p><p>“Yeah,” he replies instead of the snarky retort in his head.</p><p>“Great,” she says, a genuine smile spreading across her face. “I need a favor; consider it penance for the other night. I need you and Jughead to help me set up some things for the Newpsie casino night fundraiser.” At Archie’s confused face she simply offers, “It’s tonight.”</p><p>“Uh...sure,” Archie says, moving to throw the blanket off his body. “Let me just get changed.”</p><p>“Great! There will be refreshments there. Jughead’s already waiting outside.”</p><p>Archie looks out toward the pool and finds Jughead waving awkwardly, wearing a band t-shirt and cut-offs. </p><p>Taking a quick pee and running a comb through his hair in the bathroom, Archie psyches himself up for another Newport Beach experience.</p><p>“Top of the morning to ya, Arch,” Jughead quips in an awful Irish accent when Archie finally emerges into the bright light of the Orange County day.</p><p>Gladys exits from the main house with a designer purse on her shoulder, walking toward the driveway. “Let’s go, boys! T-minus 12 hours till the event starts!”</p><p>It’s the most cheery Archie has heard Gladys since he arrived.</p><p>“They have these things during the week too?” Archie asks Jughead, making sure to keep his voice low as they follow Gladys to her SUV.</p><p>“Don’t ask,” Jughead replies, rubbing his eyes sleepily. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Archie has to be woken up again when they arrive at some sort of swanky event space that looks suspiciously close to the room where the cocktail hour before the fashion show had taken place. </p><p>“Everything around here looks the fucking same,” Archie whispers to Jughead, who nods beside him. </p><p>“<em>Thank you</em>!” Jughead declares. “I’ve been trying to tell my mom this for years, but she won’t listen.”</p><p>And just then:</p><p>“Boys!” Gladys calls from across the room, where she’s talking to two women who Archie assumes are the famed “Newpsies.”</p><p>One of them, he realizes, looks like an older, more sophisticated (if that’s even possible) Veronica Lodge. Gladys waves them over, and Jughead sighs, leading the way. </p><p>“Thanks for helping out today, guys,” Gladys says. “Archie, this is Hermione Lodge and Sierra McCoy. Jughead, you know them well.”</p><p>“Good to see you,” Jughead says politely and Archie quickly parrots his words, wincing under the women’s judgmental stares. They seem to have zeroed in on both their bruises immediately.</p><p>“How can we help?” Archie asks, clapping his hands together in an attempt to balance the scales from his reputation that’s apparently already spread through the gated community like wildfire.</p><p>Before they can answer, Veronica Lodge is walking through the door, hand in hand with Reggie Mantle. She locks eyes with Archie, a smile stretching across her face as she says, “Oh, hey guys. You’re helping out too?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Archie says, holding her gaze and trying to ignore the angry look Reggie shoots him.</p><p>“Yes, yes!” Sierra says. “Now that we have our strapping young men here!” She turns to Reggie and Archie. “I need you two to help us with a number of heavy items still on the rental truck.”</p><p>Archie tries not to audibly sigh at the pairing. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>Reggie hesitates but then says, his voice overly polite and so unlike the one Archie has heard: “Of course, Mrs. McCoy. Show us the way.”</p><p>Archie shares a look with Jughead, who is being directed by Hermione to help Veronica inflate balloons. “Don’t worry about me, Archie,” Jughead says. “This is more in my wheelhouse anyway.”</p><p>Veronica laughs, handing Jughead a packet of silver balloons. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Veronica and Jughead are bouncing a balloon back and forth when Gladys receives a call from FP. With one glance around the ballroom, Gladys decides to take it in the hallway, quietly slipping out one of the side doors.</p><p>“Hey, FP,” she says, a shake to her voice that she knows he’ll be able to hear.</p><p>“Gladys, baby,” he sounds winded, exhausted. She missed him last night, when he ended up staying at a motel, wanting to get this mission done.</p><p>“How are you?” Gladys asks.</p><p>“We can’t leave Archie hanging like this,” FP responds, not really answering her question.</p><p>Gladys sighs, rubs her temples. “You haven’t found Brittany?”</p><p>“Almost,” he says. “I talked to a motel owner who saw her a couple times at a local restaurant up here.” </p><p>“Up here?”</p><p>“I’m a little closer to Berkeley than we’ve been in awhile.”</p><p>“Ah,” Gladys can’t help the wistful smile that involuntarily covers her face, thinking of falling in love with FP among the lush greenery of that campus. </p><p>“It’s making me think about how much Archie deserves a future,” FP continues. “He deserves a college experience like we got. Hell, he deserves a better high school experience than <em>I</em> got.” </p><p>Gladys swallows, unsure what to even say. “You have the adoption papers with you, don’t you?”</p><p>FP pauses before answering, his voice as shaky as Gladys feels. “I do,” he says. He could never lie to her. “If she refuses to take him, I have to...Gladys, I can’t let him...I need it to be an option.”</p><p>Gladys sighs.  “Okay,” she says. “I’m not saying ‘okay’ to adopting, I still...I still need to think about it. But okay, we’ll leave it open as an option.”</p><p>“Oh, Gladys,” FP says, his voice full of emotion. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Just find Brittany and get home to me,” Gladys replies, and they hang up.</p><p>She rushes back into the ballroom, not wanting to have to explain her absence to any of the Newpsies. But she only finds that Archie has returned from helping Reggie, who now stands across the room with his arm around Veronica, helping Hermione fold napkins and inventory tablecloths. </p><p>Archie and Jughead sit surrounded by gold and silver balloons, laughing hysterically at something. Gladys’ face softens as she approaches the pair. </p><p>“You two want to help me with these boxes?” she asks, nodding toward a row of cardboard boxes that are next on her to-do list.</p><p>They look up, smiles still shining in their eyes, and say, “Sure!” in almost-perfect unison.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Before Veronica can assess whether Reggie and Archie did any damage while out of her sight, Hermione grabs her “favorite couple,” with her usual cooing about Reggie’s handsomeness and helpfulness. If only Hermione knew how mean Reggie could be to anyone who he perceived to be less cool than him. This time, Hermione apparently needs help inventorying the linens and with “a handy little project” (assembling the raffle wheel) that only Reggie can complete. </p><p>Veronica looks up at Reggie to see him lost in conversation with her mother, not having noticed a thing. The way Reggie gets along with Veronica’s parents should make her happy. Instead, it creates a sort of sickened feeling in her stomach, to hear their banal conversation, Reggie’s fake laughter. </p><p>Reggie turns to Veronica then, and she pastes on a patented Lodge family smile. “What do you think?” he says, giving the colorful wheel a spin. The three of them watch, Reggie putting his hand on the small of Veronica’s back.</p><p>When it successfully stops on a yellow stripe, Veronica attempts to muster the same level of enthusiasm as Reggie and her mother.</p><p>It’s here, setting up for the annual casino night fundraiser, that Veronica first lets herself ask the question: <em>why </em>am<em> I with Reggie?</em></p><p>If she’s being honest, she hasn’t given it much thought before. Certainly not as much as she has in these last few days. She’s starting to realize that might not be normal. Is it wrong that she doesn’t have journals doodled with “Mrs. Veronica Mantle” or that she doesn’t spend her time dwelling on the sentimental stuff from their long past? To her, having a boyfriend had been almost like—her stomach sinks to even think of it—checking off a box. Someone to make out with in his darkened car, a person who she trusted to lose her virginity to. A strong arm to throw around her shoulder at a party or the kick-off carnival. It’s just become a part of who she is, what she does, and she can’t remember the last time she stopped to question it until Archie showed up.</p><p>Gulp.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Archie and Reggie are done with a very tense round of heavy-lifting, Archie is happy to be pulled into a task with just Gladys and Jughead, unpacking seemingly all the casino props from an inordinate number of cardboard boxes.</p><p>They stand around a card table, sorting cards and dice and chips, Jughead occasionally cracking jokes to make the other two laugh. </p><p>Gladys’ phone rings only a few minutes in, and the rushed conversation they overhear is very clearly a professional one.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” Gladys says when she finally hangs up. “Work,” she adds with an exaggerated sigh, as if that wasn’t obvious.</p><p>Jughead barely looks up from his sorting, clearly used to the whole charade but what Archie overheard only makes him more curious about Gladys’ job.</p><p>“What exactly do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” he chances.</p><p>“I tried to tell Jughead once and he fell asleep.”</p><p>Jughead sticks his tongue out across the table, turning away to slice open another box. </p><p>“Try me,” Archie challenges Gladys, truly interested.</p><p>“My dad owns a real estate company, the Newport Group.”</p><p>The name actually rings a bell, whether from lunch break convos with the guys during construction shifts, or listening to work talk at the local watering hole that accepted their fake IDs, he wasn’t entirely sure. “Right, you guys did the mall?”</p><p>Gladys appears pleasantly surprised. “Yep, and I’m in charge of residential development.”</p><p>“So you deal with the contractors and zoning commissions?” </p><p>“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Gladys’ smile only deepens, and Archie wonders if he’s finally broken the ice with the third member of the Jones family.</p><p>He shrugs. “I worked construction for a few summers. I used to want to be an architect.”</p><p>Gladys looks at him curiously. “And what do you want to be now?”</p><p>Archie shrugs. “Seventeen.”</p><p>Gladys laughs, handing him another box to unpack. “Me too, kid.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s ironic, FP thinks, that he would find Brittany in Berkeley. The motel is even familiar, a place only passed and never patronized. Until now.</p><p>He knocks on room number three, information traded with the owner for a crisp $20 bill.</p><p>The door opens, and an attractive but unkempt woman answers, her breath smelling of alcohol as she barks, “Who are you?” </p><p>“Brittany Meyer?” FP checks and she nods, face turning only more suspicious.</p><p>“Who are you?” she repeats, hand now gripping the doorknob.</p><p>“Please hear me out. I’m Archie’s attorney and I...I need to find him a good home.”</p><p>The woman stares blankly at him. “I’m not his guardian,” she says. “That was Frank’s deal. I said no then, and I’m saying no now. I have no desire to take care of some delinquent seventeen-year-old.”</p><p>“Oh, come on now,” FP protests. “Archie is a good kid.”</p><p>“Archie Andrews?” Brittany says with a bitter laugh. “Never trust an Andrews man. I wasted too much time on Frank as it is, and I promise you Archie’s gonna turn out as good-for-nothing as his uncle.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare talk about Archie that way!” FP says, feeling heat rise to his face as he raises his voice. “He’s a gifted kid, okay? A gifted kid who just needs a warm place to rest his head at night, people who actually care about him.” He sighs. “And clearly you’re not that person. Are you?”</p><p>She shakes her head. “What are you here for?”</p><p>“I’m here to formally ask if you’ll take Archie back, as technically you are listed as one of his two guardians. You may not like it, but through the eyes of the state, you’re who is supposed to be watching over Archie.”</p><p>“I will not,” she says, moving to shut the door, but FP is fast enough to stop her.</p><p>“Fine,” he says. “Option two then.” He presents the manila folder. “Sign these papers so <em>I</em> can give him a home.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrows. “You? Are you in the habit of taking in your clients?” She looks him up and down. “And why should I trust you?”</p><p>“If you don’t do this, Archie will end up in a group home, and then he really will end up like Frank,” FP pleads, unsure what else to do at this point. </p><p>“Will you leave me alone if I sign this?” Brittany asks with a sigh, looking behind her into the motel room, and FP hears the indistinct sound of a game show.</p><p>“Once everything’s legal, you’ll never hear from us again,” FP promises, handing Brittany a pen.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Betty has never been more grateful to see sour cream. Or cheese, for that matter. </p><p>After last night, there was no other option but calling Veronica to meet her on the boardwalk for burritos. Thankfully, Veronica arrived home from the casino night set-up just in time for Betty’s third attempt at a phone call. </p><p>“So,” Veronica says, twirling the straw in her Mexican soda. “How did you get out of helping this morning?”</p><p>“Penelope probably forgot to take a message or something,” Betty says with a shrug, holding a hand to her head. “But believe me, I needed to sleep in. As much as I needed these hangover burritos.” She taps her burrito jokingly to Veronica’s. </p><p>Veronica musters a small smile. “Yeah, you really went hard last night,” Veronica says, eyes a little too concerned for Betty’s liking. “Is everything okay, B?”</p><p>Betty nods immediately. “I...I guess I had an eighteen-year-old crisis. If that’s a thing.” She giggles a little, hopes it cuts the tension. “So I got drunk about it. Not my finest moment. But. It helped me come to a realization. One that I stand by in the sober light of day.”</p><p>“Oh? And what is this grand realization?” Veronica perks up, looking intrigued.</p><p>Betty claps her hands together and declares, “I decided that I’m swearing off boys this year. I’m sick of meaningless hook-ups.” </p><p>“Where will the water polo team be without your magical lips?” Veronica jokes, ducking the napkin Betty throws at her in retaliation.</p><p>“Seriously though,” Betty says. “Next time I kiss someone, I want it to mean something.”</p><p>“That sounds nice,” Veronica says with a nod, biting her lip and staring off toward the ocean. She doesn’t say anything more, but Betty understands what she means.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“So, I gotta get over to the model home to check on something. Am I taking you boys home first?” Gladys asks from the front seat of the car. They’d finally finished their casino night volunteer work, for which Gladys had thanked them profusely and repeatedly. </p><p>Jughead thinks about it for a second, exchanging a look with Archie, who simply shrugs. </p><p>“No,” Jughead replies. “Take us to the boardwalk? I could really go for a burrito right about now.”</p><p>“Ohhhh, yeah,” Archie says, nodding with approval.</p><p>Gladys chuckles, putting the car into drive. “The boardwalk it is.” </p><p>It’s just after noon when she drops them off with a loud reminder they need to be ready at 6 PM.</p><p>“We’ll see you back at home!” Jughead calls before Gladys drives away.</p><p>“So, is this place any good?” Archie asks as he follows Jughead down the boardwalk. </p><p>“Oh, are you kidding? It’s the kind of spectacular Mexican food that earns itself a notch in my ‘pro West Coast’ list, you know?” He pauses for breath. “In fact, I’d say it rates number four on my all-time fave-” </p><p>He pauses, face flushing at the sight before him: sitting at a picnic table outside the burrito shop are Betty and Veronica. Betty’s head is thrown back in laughter, that cute smile on her face as she shakes her head at Veronica. </p><p>Jughead shoves Archie, but he’s already spotted Veronica, hands waving wildly though her back is turned to them. </p><p>“Archie!” Jughead says, grabbing his friend’s shoulder, the excitement building as he watches Betty take an impressive bite. “It’s fate, it’s destiny. We both like burritos.”</p><p>Archie snorts and cautions, “<em>Jughead</em>. Don’t come on too strong.”</p><p>Jughead sighs, wringing his hands with nervousness. “Right, right.” He fixes his hair. “I can do this, right?”</p><p>“Yes, you can do this,” Archie says, and they walk forward at just the moment Betty seems to recognize them. </p><p>“Look who it is!” Betty says not-so-subtly, and Veronica finally turns around, the smile on her face only widening when she spots Archie.</p><p>“Hi!” Veronica calls, waving. </p><p>Archie gulps. “Oh my <em>God</em>.”</p><p>“Be cool, Archie,” Jughead teases, before stepping forward to brave the waters. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>After Jughead and Archie order their burritos at the window, Betty and Veronica scoot to make room for them, the warm and welcoming smiles almost scary to Jughead, so used to rejection from all the pretty people he attends school with. Almost like he’s expecting there to be a catch, or for this to be some sort of popular-kid prank. </p><p>“It was cool to see you guys at the casino night set-up today,” Veronica offers. </p><p>Jughead nods, too nervous to start eating for once in his life. </p><p>“Lifting boxes with your boyfriend was...interesting,” Archie says, his eyes locked on Veronica. </p><p>Veronica swallows audibly. “Please tell me he was nice to you,” she says quietly. </p><p>“I’m gonna get some salsa!” Betty suddenly declares, staring at Jughead. “You need any?”</p><p>“Yes!” Jughead says, quickly catching on. Anything to make Betty keep looking at him. “Let’s go.” </p><p>“Get me some too, Betts!” Veronica calls after them as Betty and Jughead stand up and walk together over to the little stand with all the different condiment options. </p><p>“Mmm,” Jughead says, tapping his finger against his chin and staring at the glass vats of condiments. “So many options. There’s mild, of course. Salsa verde. but then the picante...oh wow,” he watches Betty confidently fill up a container of the stuff, before visibly wincing when she finds a speck of it on her finger. </p><p>“Oh God,” she says. “Are there any napkins?”</p><p>Jughead reaches for a dispenser, only to find it empty. “Ugh, no.”</p><p>Betty sighs. “Okay. Lick it, then.”</p><p>Jughead’s mouth widens. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“Lick it,” she repeats, offering her dirtied finger this time. “The picante’s for Veronica, not me. You’d be doing me a service.”</p><p>Jughead nods, trying not to stare into her eyes as he leans down and lets his tongue swipe over her pointer finger. She giggles a little at the sensation, and God, he’d do this all day if she let him. But alas, the speck is small and it ends sooner than Jughead would like.</p><p>“Thanks!” Betty says perkily, closing up the picante container and grabbing another one. “I’m more of a mild girl myself,” she explains. </p><p>Jughead nods, face flushing, as he fills a container with some jalapenos, his own preference. “Good to know,” he says, and Betty smiles. </p><p>When they finally return to the table, Veronica and Archie have big grins on their faces, so Jughead assumes their time away helped resolve whatever tension Betty clearly sensed. They settle back in, Jughead letting out an involuntary sigh as he finally takes the first bite of his burrito.</p><p>“So guys, fill me in,” Archie says. “What is this casino night thing like?”</p><p>“Oh my God, Archie, you don’t even want to know!” Veronica says, laughing. “Our Betty here gets <em>really</em> competitive.”</p><p>Archie and Jughead both look shocked and Betty waves her hand as if to dismiss the claim. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says in a light tone. </p><p>“I guess we’ll see later tonight,” Jughead says, chancing some flirtation.</p><p>She smiles at him. “Looking forward to it.”</p><p>“Okay, okay, what else? Like, does everyone get super drunk?” Archie asks, taking a big bite of his burrito.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Veronica says. “The parents—especially the ones taking a car service—get absolutely sloshed. And…”</p><p>“We usually manage to steal some alcohol too,” Betty finishes for her, and the pair laughs. </p><p>The conversation continues like that, fun and easy and Jughead wonders if he could’ve had this all along, if maybe he’d just tried a little harder. Veronica’s claim that he was snobby and thought he was better than everyone else has been gnawing at him since she said it. </p><p>They’re all almost done, simply grazing on their last bites, when Veronica suddenly gasps. “Oh my God, Archie. I’m sorry!”</p><p>Archie laughs nervously. “For what?”</p><p>“That I didn’t ask sooner how you’re doing with your staying-out-of-foster-care problem,” Veronica explains, and Betty’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ah, yes, the problem your drunken brain was too fried to help us with last night,” Veronica adds, turning to her friend. </p><p>Betty sighs. “Yeah, I don’t remember that at all, I’m sorry to say. But I remember saying ‘hi’ to you guys!”</p><p>Jughead nods, a little relieved to hear their little hug moment wasn’t completely lost to Betty’s black-out. She shoots him another smile, and he feels like his soul has left his body.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Archie’s buzzing, wondering if he can turn this interaction into a longer hangout, if he could even get Veronica alone.</p><p>“Well, anyway, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to put our heads together. You want to help, right, Betty?” Veronica says, and Jughead can’t help but admire her persistence when it comes to Archie. It endears him toward her, for sure.</p><p>“Yeah! I love to help,” Betty says quickly, shoveling a chip in her mouth. </p><p>“Maybe we could...brainstorm? A brain trust, if you will,” Veronica suggests, her eyes sparkling as she stares at Archie. </p><p>“Yeah,” Jughead says, and quicker on his feet, Archie adds, “You should come back to our place.” He falters a little on the “our.” It feels like it, even though the house <em>technically </em>isn’t his to claim.</p><p>
Veronica and Betty share a smile, like they’re communicating telepathically. Veronica turns and locks eyes with Archie, that warm grin now directed toward him as she says, “We’d love to.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There’s an excited fluttering in Veronica’s stomach as they all climb into her car. Betty sits in the passenger seat, but that doesn’t stop them from trading jokes and observations with Archie and Jughead, the latter of whom seems to get more and more confident around Betty by the minute.</p><p>Veronica pulls back into their cul-de-sac. Her body almost involuntarily starts walking toward her own home, before she turns around to follow Jughead as he unlocks the house. Inside, he leads them into his living room, immediately asking if anyone wants drinks. Veronica’s impressed; she wouldn’t have expected Jughead’s hosting skills to be up to snuff.</p><p>“Brain trust assemble!” Veronica jokes. </p><p>Everyone settles on the Ethan Allen furniture, balancing sodas and glasses of water as they catch Betty up on the situation with Archie and his lack of guardian. </p><p>“Hmm,” Betty says, finger to her chin in the way that makes Veronica know she’s thinking hard. </p><p>“They won’t adopt you?” Betty checks, shrugging around the house and glancing at Jughead. </p><p>Archie shrugs. “I haven’t actually asked. Kind of a weird thing to ask someone.” </p><p>And they all laugh. “True,” Veronica says.</p><p>“And believe me, I tried to make a case to my parents myself,” Jughead adds. </p><p>“Maybe we could find someone else in town to be your guardian,” Betty suggests. “Or...maybe you could emancipate yourself. Prove that Brittany isn’t keeping you safe and that you can support yourself.”</p><p>“Oh <em>yeah</em>! Like Macaulay Culkin!” Jughead supplies, making Betty roll her eyes and Archie laugh. </p><p>“See, I told you Betty would know what to do,” Veronica says, impressed as always by her best friend.</p><p>“I can look up emancipation papers later. Unless you want to look it up now…” Betty looks around the room for a computer. </p><p>“It’s in the kitchen,” Jughead says. “I’ll come with you,” he quickly adds. </p><p>“Sure,” Betty says with a smile, and the two of them file into the kitchen to do some research, leaving Veronica and Archie alone.</p><p>“What ever will we do now, Archie Andrews?” Veronica flirts, unable to help herself.</p><p>“I’m beating your ass in Mario Kart,” Archie responds, reaching for the controllers and handing one to Veronica.</p><p>She grins, a giddy feeling emanating through her. She feels <em>young </em>in a way she hasn’t in awhile. “You’re on,” Veronica says with a giggle, accepting the controller.</p><p>When Jughead and Betty return a few minutes later to report that no, downloading emancipation forms does not seem to be a viable option—“but maybe we could go to town hall tomorrow and see what they know…”—they find Veronica and Archie in intense competition, each having won a round and now locked in a final race to the death.</p><p>“Okay, I’m totally playing winner,” Betty says, jumping up onto the couch and sitting behind Veronica.</p><p>“Yes!” Veronica whoops, beating Archie by just a hair. She turns to Archie with a shit-eating grin. “Better luck next time, Andrews.” She turns to Betty: “you’re on, B.”</p><p>“Mario Kart tournament?” Jughead suggests with an excited grin, placing down a bowl of chips he’d grabbed from the kitchen and watching Archie and Veronica eagerly grab for them. </p><p>Jughead settles himself on the floor below Archie, and Veronica shares a grin with Betty as Archie hands her the controller. Betty’s eyes are shining, her concentration focused on choosing her character. For just a moment, everything is okay. Actually, more than.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Betty and Jughead are locked in battle—third race out of three, with Betty in the lead yet again—when Jughead realizes that Veronica and Archie have slunk off somewhere together.</p><p><em>I’m alone with Betty Cooper. </em>Jughead tries not to let his nervousness show, but it might just be the reason he wipes out, leaving Betty to slide across the finish line to victory. </p><p>“Yes!” Betty cheers, pumping her fists in the air. “Suck it.” She turns and sticks her tongue out at him, which Jughead finds, frankly, adorable.</p><p>He raises his own hands in surrender. “You have bested me, and I am honestly impressed by your prowess.” He cringes, realizing that SAT vocabulary words probably aren’t any teenage girl’s idea of sexy.</p><p>But Betty smiles softly. “Had a lot of years playing with my sister,” she explains before taking a significant look around the room. “Where did Veronica and Archie go? I didn’t even notice them leave.”</p><p>Jughead shrugs. “I didn’t either. I guess we were really in the zone there for a minute.”</p><p>“One of us more than the other,” Betty contends with a side eye. “Well, those two are clearly into each other.” She says it so bluntly that Jughead blinks rapidly, wondering to himself if he heard her correctly. But then again, it’s the same thought he’s had since he first saw Veronica and Archie interact.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious to me too,” Jughead says. “It’s just a...vibe between them, I guess.”</p><p>Betty nods, reaching for a couple chips from the bowl and chewing thoughtfully. “That’s exactly it,” she says. “Can I tell you something that we have to keep between us?”</p><p>Jughead tingles with anticipation and curiosity. “Of course,” he says.</p><p>Betty takes a deep breath. “I know she’s been with him forever and they’re supposed to be like, <em>the </em>power couple of the Harbor School, but I’ve never felt that...<em>vibe, </em>if you will, between Veronica and Reggie.”</p><p>Jughead can’t help it, his mouth drops open in surprise. And here he was, thinking Betty and Reggie must be thick as thieves based on her reaction at the birthday party. Maybe there was some truth to what Veronica was saying about his snobbery. In his loneliness and bitterness maybe Jughead hadn’t been capable of seeing the whole picture, how everyone was hiding something behind their glossy veneer. </p><p>“See, you're surprised!” Betty says, grabbing another chip and sighing.</p><p>“Only because, like you, I’ve been watching their supposed grand romance from the sidelines for all these years,” Jughead replies truthfully.</p><p>Betty nods, seeming to accept that. “True,” she says, pausing again thoughtfully. “It’s just...Veronica is the coolest person I’ve ever met. She’s so strong and beautiful and smart, and she deserves to be with...someone who she really loves. Someone…” She turns and laughs immediately at what she sees.</p><p>Jughead similarly turns and catches a glimpse of the same thing Betty spotted: Archie and Veronica sitting side by side next to the pool, feet dipping in the water as they laugh together. </p><p>“...someone like Archie,” Betty says, hand clamped over her mouth immediately. “Seriously, don’t tell anyone I said that.” Her eyes are intense as she stares at Jughead, and his first thought is that he never wants to be on the other end of a fight with Betty Cooper. He’s certain he’d lose.</p><p>“You really love Veronica, don’t you?” Jughead says, perhaps never having slowed down for long enough to think of Betty Cooper in that way. <em>Devoted best friend </em>seems to be one of the titles she wears insanely well.</p><p>“We joke that we’re each other’s soulmates all the time,” Betty says, meeting Jughead’s eye as she gives him a soft smile, and he thinks that he’s only falling for her harder with every interaction, if that were even possible.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It starts when Veronica asks where Archie sleeps at the Jones house.</p><p>His response is a coy, “The pool house.” There’s a self-deprecating joke about that on the tip of his tongue, but before he can make it, Veronica says two delicious words: </p><p>“Show me.”</p><p>Betty and Jughead are so engrossed in their game they don’t seem to hear them slip out the door and over to the pool house, where Archie stops at the edge of the pool. He’s too afraid of what might happen, of the fire this spark between them could light, if they were to be alone in his technical bedroom. </p><p>So he shoves his shoes off and sits down before Veronica can go any farther. She smiles, though, taking it all in stride. Her sandals are easily slipped off, and she makes a satisfied “mmm” sound when her feet touch the water. The temperature is, as always, perfect, and the infinity pool looks over a view of Newport that only gets prettier the later in the afternoon it becomes.</p><p>“It’s so pretty here,” Archie offers, breaking the silence that was previously only punctuated by little splashes as Veronica runs her toes through the water.</p><p>Veronica nods, though she seems somewhat hesitant to agree. She glances over at her own house next door, a forlorn look seeming to haunt her face. </p><p>Archie watches her eyeline silently, so it’s almost scary when Veronica lifts her eyes to find Archie’s gaze already fixed on her. <em>She has a </em>boyfriend<em>, </em>Archie tries to remind himself.</p><p>“You caught me,” Veronica says quietly, though Archie didn’t say a thing.</p><p>“I did?” Archie replies, and his confusion seems to amuse Veronica, breaking the tension.</p><p>“All is not <em>fine</em> in my perfect home,” Veronica explains, a lilt on the word “perfect” like she’s making verbal air quotes.</p><p>Archie frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that, Veronica.”</p><p>“You see, my dad, he’s a financial planner, and I think he’s in trouble. These cops keep coming to the door.” The words slip out easily, and Archie’s eyes widen. Maybe there’s more in common between Newport and Chino than he thought. The crime here just wears a different colored collar.</p><p>“I haven’t told anybody that,” Veronica says next, still staring back into his eyes.</p><p>“I can keep a secret,” Archie says quickly. “Especially for you.”</p><p>Veronica nods, gulping and inching a little closer to Archie. “I don’t know why I just...I knew you’d understand.” Her eyes flicker down toward Archie’s lips, and he wonders, with bated breath, <em>are we about to kiss?</em></p><p>And that’s when the doorbell rings about a million times, like someone’s pressing it relentlessly. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Betty and Jughead are just trying to decide if they should play a rematch or channel surf when the doorbell rings. </p><p>Confused, Jughead immediately gets to his feet, murmuring that he has no idea who that could be. </p><p>But then the bell keeps ringing, like a million times. </p><p>“What the <em>hell</em>?” Jughead says, and Betty finds it unusual too. Curious and a little scared if she’s being honest, Betty follows Jughead to the front door where they’d come in only an hour earlier. </p><p>By the time they cross the foyer, the ringing has been accompanied by a pounding on the door. “Who is it?” Jughead tries, but he only gets another punch to the door in response.</p><p>“Oh, God,” Betty says, bringing her nails to her teeth. </p><p>Jughead rolls his shoulders back, like he’s trying to hype himself up—it might be funny if Betty weren’t a little scared about who was on the other end of that door—and finally opens it. </p><p>An angry-looking Reggie stares murderously at them from the doorstep. Before they can say as much as hello—let alone signal some sort of warning to Archie and Veronica—Reggie is flying past them and into the house. </p><p>“What, are you guys having a nice little double date?” Reggie roars as he enters the living room, finding the nearly-empty bowl of chips, a couple cans of soda, the controllers abandoned haphazardly on the couch with the home screen blaring Mario Kart music. </p><p>Reggie doesn’t even look at Jughead, but he does glance at Betty, and the betrayed look on his face punches Betty in the gut. She meant what she’d said to Jughead earlier, but maybe she’d never stopped to consider before that Reggie actually has feelings. He’s always putting on such a macho show for everyone, even his friends, that it had simply never occurred to her. </p><p>Veronica and Archie are standing next to the pool, looking confusedly in their direction, when Reggie spots them. Veronica’s mouth drops open, and before any of them can stop him, Reggie’s tearing open the sliding glass door and bounding across the yard toward Veronica and Archie. Betty and Jughead run after him, exchanging a worried look. </p><p>“What the fuck, Veronica?” Reggie yells, before rounding on Archie. </p><p>“How many times do I have to tell you to stop spending so much fucking time with my girlfriend?” Reggie says, getting into Archie’s face immediately. </p><p>Betty watches Archie clench his fists, sees his entire demeanour change from what she’s gotten to know so far today. </p><p>“He’s my friend!” Veronica yells, trying to get in between the boys, and Betty becomes slightly worried they’re gonna end up hurting Veronica in their rage. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Your girlfriend can be friends with whoever she wants, Reggie,” Archie spits back at him. His heart is racing—it already was, because he’d almost kissed Veronica, he was sure of it deep in his bones. But Reggie doesn’t need to know that.</p><p>“She must feel bad for you, Chino,” Reggie snarls. “You’re just a charity case, being taken in by the Joneses because they feel so sorry for you too. We all know Mr. Jones is a bleeding heart liberal.” </p><p>“Reggie, stop it,” Veronica snaps, but Reggie keeps circling Archie, his fists raised threateningly. </p><p>“Why don’t you go back where you came from?” he says. “Probably a trailer park, right? Isn’t that where you white trash live?”</p><p>It’s in that moment that Archie knows he’s gonna punch Reggie in the face. He doesn’t let it show though. He’s learned from his many years of fighting random kids—yes, in <em>Chino</em>, as Reggie would say—that there’s a lot to be said for control, calm, and the element of surprise.</p><p>“Hey, Reggie,” Archie says, and the calm tone does the intended job of disarming Reggie slightly, his face crumpling up in confusion. “You know what I like about rich kids?”</p><p>Reggie looks dumbfounded for the single second Archie gives him before landing a punch square in the jaw at the same time he lets out the punchline: “Nothing!”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>!” he hears Jughead cheer. “That was <em>awesome</em>!”</p><p>But before Archie, too, can relish in how cool his little moment had been, Reggie has landed a punch to Archie’s stomach. </p><p>Before Archie even knows what’s happening, Reggie jumps him, pulling them both into the pool in their clothes.</p><p>“Stop it!” Veronica yells futilely from the sidelines, and then, a new voice enters the mix. </p><p>“What the hell is going on out here?” </p><p>Archie and Reggie both stop their movements, turning to find Gladys Jones walking onto the patio, arms full of bags. “I <em>know</em> you two are not fighting in my pool,” she says, her voice angry in that even way that always produces a dramatic response. “Especially not before a <em>very important fundraiser</em> I know all of you need to be getting ready for.” Her eyes land menacingly on each one of them. </p><p>“But Mrs. Jones, Archie and Veronica-” Reggie tries, but Gladys sets her glare on him until he falls silent. </p><p>“Fine, fuck this. Fuck all of you,” Reggie says angrily, storming off through the house, as Gladys trails after him, yelling at him for dripping on her floors.</p><p>“Rosa was just here!” Gladys mutters frustratedly, referring to the housekeeper Archie still feels weird seeing around the house.</p><p>Archie pulls himself out of the pool, chest heaving. “Veronica…” he tries, wanting to apologize, wanting to say anything to make this better. She looks back at him, disappointment in her eyes. </p><p>Before either of them can say anything to each other, Betty steps forward. She wraps Veronica in a big hug, and when Veronica melts so easily into her best friend’s arms, Archie knows he’s lost.</p><p>“Don’t go after either of them, V,” Betty stage-whispers into her best friend’s hair. “Let’s just cool off, go home and get ready for casino night.”</p><p>Veronica nods, wrapping her arms tightly around her friend as she takes a couple cleansing breaths.</p><p>“We’ll see you guys there,” Betty says quickly in Archie and Jughead’s direction, though she takes care to shoot Jughead an apologetic look, and Archie wonders if anything happened between them.</p><p>Jughead watches until they disappear behind the Lodge fence, and then turns to Archie with his trademark smirk:</p><p>“Now what?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahhhhh! Drama, drama, drama! This is truly the most ~teen drama~ thing i’ve ever written and it’s so fun! </p><p>also, for my o.c. fans: hope you enjoyed "it's fate, it's destiny, we both love burritos," the salsa licking scene, and of course, the iconic "you know what i like about rich kids? nothing" allusions!</p><p>Next up is casino night, and if you’re a fan of the show, you’ll see some iconic moments reproduced. Let me know what you thought, dolls!</p><p>Love and solidarity always, Maria</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, would love to hear what you think &lt;3 this is my first time writing a truly core four centric story and i hope i did our babes justice! bugvarchie solidarity forever.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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